>*y  s  -y /» P  *Tor?^^t^-  ■ 


.'  foc'r^Hif ^ ',  •'/  ■  ''i<:  --yp  >  -^r  :^  '■  •;<- *i-v 


JOSEPH  LEISER. 


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CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 


Q  1 


CANAWAY  AND 
THE  LUSTIGS 


BY 


JOSEPH   LEISER 


CINCINNATI 

YOUNG   ISRAEL 

PUBLISHER 


URt 


Coiryright  1909 

BY  S.  BACHARACH 
A?J  rights  reserved 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 


Prti$  of 
S.  BACHARACH 
Cmeinuati,  U,S.A. 


URL 
SFILF 


!/i<x'.  gVG^7^(> 


TO  MY  PARENTS 
J.  L. 


CONTENTS. 

ipter        I. 

The  IjVLstiga  in  Canaway 

11 

II. 

In  Scn^v-er8enz 

-       37 

III. 

Trummer 

-       59 

IV. 

A  Rural  Punm 

-        76 

V. 

EKjak  tke  Propket      - 

-       86 

VI. 

Connrmation  Day      - 

-       98 

"         VII. 

A  Country  Ckeder  - 

-      112 

"      VIII. 

Postscript           -           - 

-      130 

ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PAGE. 

Tkc  Secler               -               -               -  Frontispiece 

Crazy  Came         _               -               -.  -           40 

MouLe  Stumm          -          -               -  -            42 

TLe  ScL-werienz  Mill         -               -  -            48 

TLc  Troutafilour  Jew^        -               -  -            70 

Professor  Goldstein             -               -  -          122 


Canaway  and  the 
Lustigs 


CHAPTER  I. 


THE  LUSTIGS  IN  CANAWAY 


THERE  used  to   be  over  the  entrance  and  along  the  upper 
line  of  the  store  windows  of  a  two-story  brick  building 
on    Main    Street  of  Canaway,  a    large  gilt  and  black 
sign,  the   bright,  glistening  letters  standing  out  distinctly   against 
a  background  of  black.    The  words  read: 

ROCHESTER  CLOTHING  STORE. 

This  building,  not  an  imposing  structure  by  any  means,  or  a 
thing  of  beauty,  is  still  standing,  and  may  be  seen  on  any  day  in 
the  year  by  one  who  chances  to  be  in  this  Western  New  York 
town.  But  the  sign  has  changed,  and  the  interior  of  the  store  has 
been  greatly  enlarged  and  improved,  since  the  owner  and  pro- 
prietor, with  whom  we  are  esp>ecially  concerned,  carried  on 
business  there. 

At  the  time  of  which  I  write,  the  store  was  long  and  narrow. 
It  still  conforms  in  the  main  to  these  dimensions.  But  it  has  been 
ao  lengthened  that  one  scarcely  notices  its  width.  In  former 
days  it  was  about  one-half  of  its  present  depth  and  the  rear  end  was 
as  dark  as  a  cellar. 

In  those  days  the  store  was  packed  with  clothing.  On  both 
II 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

side  walls  stood  tiers  of  shelves  reaching  from  the  floor  to  the 
ceiling,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  ran  a  succession  of  tables. 
There  also  were  counters  that  stood  a  few  feet  away  from  the 
shelves.  These  and  the  center  tables  made  four  litde  aisles  up 
and  down  which  the  proprietor  passed  as  he  waited  on  his  custo- 
mers. 

On  the  right  and  left  of  the  entrance  were  small  show-cases 
resting  on  the  counters.  The  modem  show-case,  which  is  made 
wholly  of  glass,  was  unknown  in  those  days.  The  tyf>e  of  show- 
case used  in  the  Rochester  Clothing  Store  may  still  be  found  in 
the  confectionery  stores  of  country  towns.  It  is  about  six  feet  long^ 
three  feet  wide  and  one  foot  high.  Candy  dealers  in  country  towns 
find  it  necessary  to  confine  their  sweets  within  this  limited  enclosure 
to  keep  out  the  flies  and  sundry  small  fingers.  But  these  show- 
cases are  no  longer  used  in  large  cities,  where  merchants  are  eager 
to  display  their  wares. 

In  the  Rochester  Clothing  Store  of  Canaway  there  were  few 
fixtures.  Over  the  counter,  on  a  home-made  wooden  frame,  some 
wires  were  strung,  the  whole  device  being  suspended  from  the  ceil- 
ing. On  these  v^dres  were  pinned  red  bandanna  handkerchiefs, 
suspenders  (called  by  the  country  people  "galluses"),  and  socks, 
usually  of  two  colors — a  bright  red  and  a  light  gray.  The  socks 
were  not  of  a  pretty  design,  like  those  worn  by  the  present  genera- 
tion. Tliey  were  thick  and  as  hard  as  cardboard,  but  kept  the 
feet  warm,  and  for  that  reason  men  bought  them. 

Direcdy  opposite  this  rack  and  over  the  counter  to  the  right 
of  the  entrance,  hung  another  rack,  on  which  in  winter  a  variety 
of  hats,  chiefly  felt  hats  or  woolen  caps,  were  displayed.  In  sum- 
mer all  this  cloth  headgear  was  removed,  and  a  goodly  assortm«it 
of  straw  hats  hung  from  the  rack,  being  mostly  wide-brimmed  for 
the  farmers,  and  more  especially  for  the  farmers*  sons,  who  prided 
themselves  more  on  possessing  a  broad-brimmed  straw  hat  for  the 

12 


THE  LUSTIGS  IN  CANAWAY 

haying  season    than  the    city  boys   do    on  owning  a    bicycle. 

On  the  tables,  counters,  and  shelves,  each  kind  in  its  place, 
were  coats,  trousers,  vests,  overcoats,  overalls,  shirts,  underwear, 
neckties,  paper  collars,  and  linen  dusters,  which  were  made  popular 
by  Horace  Greeley,  who,  it  is  said,  never  wore  any  other  kind  of 
coat  when  he  could  help  it. 

TTiis  was  a  country  clothing  store;  and  the  goods  offered  for 
sale  were  the  sort  most  needed  by  the  farmers  and  country  p>eople. 
The  material  was  good  and  strong,  but  not  strictly  fashionable. 
It  was  worn  for  use  and  not  for  show.  This  is  the  general  appear- 
ance of  the  place,  except  in  winter  time,  when,  by  removing  one  of 
the  center  tables,  a  space  was  cleared  for  a  large  cylinder-shaped 
sheet-iron  stove,  around  which  a  half-dozen  tottering  chairs  were 
set.  Tliese  chairs  were  like  war  veterans — one  wanted  an  arm, 
another  leg.  Not  one  was  sound  of  limb  or  unbandaged.  All 
were  bound  in  place  with  twine — a  decrepit  lot  of  props  for  a  parlor, 
but  very  comfortable  seats  for  a  clothing  store  in  winter,  when  the 
north  wind  blew  and  the  stove,  roaring  back  defiance,  threw  out 
warmth  and  cheer  to  those  encircling  it. 

Were  one  to  enter  this  store,  he  would  be  met  by  a  man  of 
average  height,  who  would  advance  slowly  from  whatever  part  of 
the  room  he  happened  to  be,  and  grasp  the  newcomer  by  the  hand 
cordially,  and  begin  to  talk  at  once  about  the  weather,  the  last 
runaway  in  the  village,  and  end  up  his  inquiries  by  asking,  with 
apparent  deep  concern,  all  about  your  family,  your  wife  and  chil- 
dren, your  father,  mother,  sisters,  brothers,  aunts,  uncles  and  cousins. 

Being  usually  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  both  in  summer  and  in  win- 
ter, he  appeared  to  be  inclined  to  obesity,  and  so  he  was.  His 
arms  were  short  and  fat,  and  his  shoulders  wide  apart,  giving 
ample  space  for  the  setting  of  his  large,  round  head,  which  was 
covered  with  a  heavy  growth  of  brown,  curly  hair.  His  neck — and 
that  was  the  one  feature  of  the  man  to  be  rertiembered — he  had  no 

13 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

neck.  It  was  so  short  that  his  head  appeared  to  rest  level  with  his 
shoulders.  At  times  one  might  think  he  was  deformed;  but  not 
«o;  he  was  simply  short,  and  not  a  stiff-necked  nor  obstinate  man. 
His  eyes,  which  were  dark  blue,  always  sparkled  with  good  cheer. 
The  color  of  his  skin  was  ruddy,  in  spite  of  his  indoor  habits.  TTiere 
was  not  a  frown  or  a  wrinkle  on  his  low  but  wide  forehead,  nor  a 
furrow  on  his  cheeks.  Honesty  and  friendliness  were  written  over 
his  open  face.    Light  and  happiness  shone  from  his  eyes. 

This  was  Herman  Lustig. 

TTie  people  of  Canaway  and  the  farmers  of  Ontario  County 
considered  Herman  Lustig  a  prudent,  trustworthy  business  man. 
When  he  said  the  cloth  of  a  coat  was  "all  wool,"  his  customers 
beheved  him,  because  he  never  hesitated  to  inform  a  customer,  if 
he  knew  it  was  so,  that  a  coat  was  not  all  wool.  It  became  a  pro- 
verb among  the  country  folks  that  whatever  "Dutch  Herman"  said 
was  true.  And  Dutch  Herman  is  what  they  called  him.  In  other 
words,  Herman  Lustig  was  honest  in  his  dealings  and  public- 
spirited  when  necessary.  But  he  attended  strictly  to  his  own  busi- 
ness, and  allowed  others  to  do  the  same  with  theirs.  So  he  pros- 
pered, as  all  do  who  adhere  to  this  p>olicy. 

But  were  he  simply  an  honest  clothing  merchant,  and  nothing 
more,  I  would  have  no  occasion  to  introduce  him  here.  He  was 
more  than  a  clothing  merchant,  as  we  shall  have  opportunity  to 
learn  before  long. 

Our  interest  in  Herman  Lustig  arises  from  two  facts:  First, 
he  was  the  father  of  two  boys,  Ludwig,  the  older,  and  Gottlieb; 
and  secondly,  Herman  Lustig  had  many  stories  to  tell  his  sons 
about  places  he  had  seen  and  men  he  had  known — men,  the  like 
of  whom  live  only  in  the  provincial  towns  of  Germany.  And 
Lustig  was  bom  and  brought  up  in  one  of  them,  and  had  many 
experiences  there,  which  are  not  the  lot  of  boys  of  our  day  and 
country. 

14 


THE  LUSTIGS  IN  CANAWAY 

We  are  tempted  to  say  that  Herman  Lustig  and  his  sons  are  ot 
special  interest  to  us  because  they  lived  in  Canaway.  To  be  born 
or  to  live  in  Canaway  is  a  rare  good  fortune  to  any  one.  And  since 
our  stories  are  all  located  in  this  place  (those  who  hear  them  and 
he  who  tells  them  lived  there),  suppose  we  learn  something  about 
Canaway. 

Bear  in  mind  that  Canaway  is  not  a  manufacturing  town. 
Only  two  things  are  made  there — ale  and  bricks,  two  articles  that 
do  not  always  go  together.  There  used  to  be  a  spoke  factory  just 
outside  the  jail  hmits,  but  the  only  fact  of  interest  about  the  spoke 
factory  was  that  occasionally  it  burned. 

Canaway  is  not  a  place  of  mills  and  factories,  his  simply  a 
Western  New  York  village,  situated  at  the  foot  of  Canaway  Lake> 
on  the  banks  of  which  grow  the  most  deliciously  flavored  grajjes 
raised  in  North  America.  Canaway  Lake  gives  the  town  of  Cana- 
way its  distinction.  Without  the  lake,  the  tovni  would  be  a  bride 
without  a  bridegroom.     Tlie  two  are  inseparable. 

Now,  it  must  be  remembered  that  the  Lustigs  did  not  make 
Canaway  famous,  although  certain  great  men  make  their  places 
of  residences  well  known.  "Let  a  man  do  a  great  deed,"  says 
Elmerson,  "or  thmk  a  great  thought,  and  even  if  he  lives  in  a  forest, 
men  will  come  to  see  him."  But  the  chief  interest  we  have  in 
presenting  Herman  Lustig  and  his  sons  is  due  to  the  fact  that  they 
and  their  mother  were  the  only  Jewish  people  in  Canaway. 

A  few  such  p>eople  live  in  country  towns,  and  to  distinguish 
them  from  all  other  kinds  and  classes  of  Jews,  they  are  called 
country  Jews.  For  this  reason  their  relatives  and  friends  who  live 
in  cities  commiserate  them.  But  there  is  no  need  to  do  that,  even 
if  the  only  Jewish  family  dwelling  in  a  country  town  enlarges  the 
Jewish  |x>pulation  by  bringing  a  mother-in-law,  a  cousin,  or  a 
step-brother,  or  a  sweetheart  to  hve  with  them  in  that  place. 

Country  boys  have  a  better  time  during  their  childhood  and 
13 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

youth  than  city  boys  do,  and  so  do  girls,  for  that  matter — at  leastt 
so  the  country  boys  think,  and  they  ought  to  know.  A  majority 
of  Jewish  children  in  this  and  other  countries  are  bom  and  brought 
up  in  cities.  Tliey  know  very  little  of  the  country,  and  see  less  of 
it  than  is  good  for  them.  That  they  have  to  forego  many  pleasures 
is  not  realized  until,  perhaps,  they  make  a  visit  to  some  country 
home.  But  they  have  by  that  time  lost  freedom  and  lightness  of 
limb  and  carmot  run,  jump  nor  climb.  Tliey  do  not  know  the 
birds  and  their  habits,  nor  the  names  of  the  trees  and  their  customs. 
And,  to  be  sure,  birds  and  trees  and  insects,  as  well  as  grown-up 
folks,  have  their  habits  and  customs.  Men  have  written  books 
telling  us  about  the  doings  of  bees  and  wasps,  and  other  insects  too 
numerous  to  mention.  And  then  the  city -bred  cannot  read  weath- 
er signs  in  the  skies,  or  p)oint  out  a  thunder-head,  should  one  loom 
up  before  them. 

City  boys  and  girls  never  walk  far  at  a  time.  Whenever  it 
is  necessary  for  them  to  go  a  distance,  they  take  a  street  car.  But 
who  can  find  a  bird's  nest  while  riding  on  a  street  car?  or  see  a 
squirrel  run  along  a  fence  rail?  City  boys  miss  half  the  joy  of  life 
because  they  live  in  steam-heated  flats.  But  they  never  find 
that  out  till  they  have  grown  old,  when  their  zest  for  out-of-door 
things  is  lost. 

Country  boys  and  girls  play  real  live  games  without  the  inter- 
ference of  the  policeman.  There  are  no  poUcemen  in  country  towns. 
The  town  constable,  the  only  similar  official  to  a  policeman,  is 
usually  an  old  man,  and  possibly  a  veteran,  elected  to  sit  in  the 
court  house  and  tell  war  stories  over  and  over  again  to  the  old 
cronies  and  whoever  will  listen.  He  rarely  arrests  anyone,  for 
fear  the  culprit  might  happen  to  be  an  old  soldier;  and  to  imprison 
such  a  man  is  against  the  rules  of  the  jail. 

A  city  boy  learns  to  swim  in  a  natatorium,  if  he  learns  at  all, 
and  usually  the  only  bath  he  gets  is  in  a  bath-tub.     But  a  country 

16 


THE  LUSTIGS  IN  CANAWAY 

boy  has  an  old  swimming  hole,  somewhere  in  the  creek,  behind 
the  willows,  far  enough  away  from  the  watchful  eyes  of  his  parents 
to  be  out  of  sight.  There  he  learns  how  to  swim,  watching  the 
older  boys,  who  act  as  teachers.  Tliey  teach  him  thoroughly. 
First  they  throw  him  in  and  compel  the  novitiate  to  sink  or  swim. 
He  never  sinks,  to  be  sure,  but  he  cnes  out  m  fnght.  He  is  then 
promptly  ducked  the  second  time,  to  show  him  that  he  must  resjject 
his  elders  and  not  say  anything  babyish  or  unmanly. 

So  he  learns  to  swim  the  first  day  he  touches  fresh  water. 
Diving  and  the  other  amphibian  tricks  of  his  instructors  are  later 
accomplishments.  The  boy  who  can  dive  "head  first" — that  is 
the  only  proper  way  to  dive — is  a  candidate  for  the  circus.  All 
country  boys  are  candidates  for  the  circus. 

There  are  many  other  games  and  sports  a  country  boy  plays 
that  are  unknown  in  cities.  "Hunt  the  grey,"  for  example — a 
game  that  starts  early  in  the  evening  and  lasts  till  the  boys  are  tired 
out.  Some  boy  takes  a  club  and  throws  it  down  the  street.  The 
first  one  who  gets  it  throws  it  further  on,  running  all  the  while  and 
throwing  it  forward,  till  they  reach  the  town  limit.  Then  at  the 
first  cross-road  the  boys  begin  to  encircle  the  town.  He  who  is 
so  ill-fated  as  to  be  chosen  to  find  the  stick  or  club  is  compelled  to 
run  after  his  comrades,  hunting  the  grey,  as  the  club  is  called. 
The  only  clue  he  has  to  the  location  of  the  stick  is  the  distant  cry 
of  his  comrades,  who,  from  time  to  time,  shout  out,  "Hunt  the 
grey!  hunt  the  grey!"  On  still  nights  the  echoes  of  their  cries 
float  over  the  village  like  the  low,  mournful  sob  of  a  wayfarer  in 
distress. 

TTiere  is  another  game,  less  tiresome  but  more  likely  to  cause 
accident,  known  by  the  unpoetic  name  of  "shinny."  Indeed,  the 
game  is  well  named.  It  is  a  shin-breaking  game  for  those  who 
may  be  careless  at  it.  TTiis  is  how  the  boys  of  Canaway  used  to 
play  the  game:  A  small  block  or  cube  of  pine  or  hickory — the 

17 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

latter  prefered  because  of  its  hardness — was  set  on  a  flat  rock, 
equidistant  from  two  goals.  Two  competent  leaders,  each  holding 
firmly  a  long  stick  curved  at  the  end  (the  stick  was  a  young  saphng 
that  ended  in  a  knee  or  knot),  would  strike  the  small  block  (with 
the  stick)  from  the  plate  towards  his  own  goal  at  a  given  signal* 
TTie  cube  would  then  be  knocked  about  by  several  contestants 
on  the  respective  sides — the  jx)int  of  the  game  being  to  knock  the 
block  across  the  opponent's  goal  line.  That  done,  a  victory  was 
scored.  The  boys  would  play  three,  jxresibly  five  games,  and 
then  disband  either  to  eat  apples  or  to  crack  hickory  nuts,  the 
victors,  to  be  sure,  passing  uncomplimentary  remarks  on  the  shabby 
playing  of  their  opponents. 

The  game,  it  is  readily  seen,  is  a  crude  form  of  our  modem 
polo,  or  the  still  more  modem  and  aristocratic  golf;  but  "shiimy" 
is  not  so  expensive.  Golf  is  the  luxury  of  the  rich,  who  have  en- 
closed parks  and  extensive  lawns  and  club-houses,  with  servants, 
keepers  and  the  like.  But  "shinny"  any  country  boy  may  play, 
and  be  his  owti  caddy. 

This  httle  description  of  country  sports  has  no  direct  bearing 
on  the  Lustigs  or  Canaway.  But  then  we  are  dealing  with  country 
children,  and  it  is  well  to  know  the  superior  way  in  which  they 
amuse  themselves.  And  since  the  residents  of  the  cities  are  in  the 
habit  of  looking  down  pitifully,  if  not  contemptuously,  on  country 
people,  it  is  time  to  remind  the  city  dwellers  that,  so  far  as  the 
children  are  concemed,  they  had  better  have  been  bom  in  the 
country,     because  of  the  greater  pleasures  country  children  enjoy. 

Besides,  every  country  boy  has  f>et  einimals.  His  pet  is  usually 
a  dog.  Few  dogs  are  allowed  in  the  city  flats — certainly  not  a 
horse.  TTiose  who  keep  horses  give  over  the  care  of  their  horses 
to  a  coachman,  and  the  boys  seldom  see  them,  because  they  ride 
m  closed  carriages,  as  if  they  were  always  being  driven  to  a  funeral. 

But  if  a  country  boy  keeps  a  dog  or  a  horse,  he  is  certain  to 
18 


THE  LUSTIGS  IN  CANAWAY 

keep  chickens,  and  city  people  see  chickens  only  inside  of  butcher 
shops.  A  boy  or  girl  who  has  never  seen  or  heard  a  rooster  crow 
when  the  first  beam  of  dawn  gilds  the  rim  of  the  east,  does  not 
know  how  this  fearless  trumpeter  drives  solitude  away  from  the 
country  side.  Tlien  to  witness  two  young  roosters  fight  for  su- 
premacy is  to  see  a  serio-comedy  of  f)oultry  Ufe. 

Tlie  fun  of  making  things — what  can  city  boys  make?  Some 
of  them  do  not  know  what  a  hammer  looks  like.  Have  they  ever 
built  a  dog  house  or  a  chicken  coop?  Do  they  know  how  to  put 
up  a  hut  in  the  woods  in  which  to  hide  from  the  Indians  who  still 
roam  a  forest  in  a  boy's  imagination?  Have  any  city  boys  built 
a  dove-cote  or  made  a  tent  out  of  old  burlap  bags?  Have  they 
gone  berrying  along  country  roads,  or  picked  cherries  on  shares 
from  Mrs.  Blodgett's  cherry  tree,  as  the  boys  in  Canaway  did? 
TTiey  have  not. 

Have  city  boys  gotten  up  early  mornings  to  see  a  circus  come 
to  town,  and  carried  water  for  the  elephants  for  an  admission 
ticket  to  the  side-show?  Oh,  no.  A  city  boy  does  not  know 
what  mysterious  freaks  are  to  be  found  in  a  side  show.  The  man 
with  rubber  skin;  the  armless  man,  who  can  write  his  name  with 
his  toes;  the  Albino  lady,  whose  eyes  are  pink;  the  midget  and 
the  giant;  the  fat  women  and  the  living  skeleton;  the  glass  blower 
from  Ballyhoo,  and  the  snake  charmer  from  Hindoostan — are 
not  these  curious  more  bewildering  than  the  circus  itself,  with  Jumbo, 
the  big  elephant,  and  the  other  wild  animals?  A  country  boy 
thinks  so. 

A  circus  is  an  important  affair  to  a  country  boy,  because  every 
circus  has  a  clown.  TTie  boys  follow  after  him  in  the  parade  farth- 
er than  they  do  the  steam  calliope — and  it  is  not  every  circus  that 
can  afford  a  steam  calliope.  But  every  circus  has  a  clown.  He 
always  rides  along  in  a  parade,  drawn  by  an  old  mule  that  kicks 
every  time  it  passes  a  hitching  post.     Every  time  the  hind  legs 

19 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

of  the  mule  go  up  in  the  air,  the  clown  jumps  up  from  his 
seat;  and  that  makes  the  boys  laugh. 

What  country  boy  has  not  followed  the  clown  (of  course 
every  one  could  not  get  away  from  his  parents  to  follow)  but  those 
who  marched  behind  him  up  and  down  the  street  watched  eagerly 
his  grimaces;  laughed  when  he  laughed;  talked  to  him  as  if  he  were 
the  only  being  in  the  world  worth  noticing. 

I  will  never  get  through  talking  about  the  country  if  I  keep 
on  at  this  rate.  But  let  it  be  imderstood  now,  that  Ludwig  and 
Gottheb  never  regretted  that  they  were  bom  in  Canaway,  for  al- 
though they  occasionally  visited  Rochester,  the  biggest  city  in  the 
world  to  them,  and  saw  a  real  fire  engine  there,  and  a  patrol  wagon 
and  policeman,  and  big  stores  with  more  goods  in  one  comer  than 
their  father  had  in  his  entire  store,  and  more  jjeople  on  one  street 
than  in  Canaway  on  a  fireman's  parade  or  circus  day,  still  they  never 
regretted  their  childhood  in  Canaway.  There  was  no  occasion 
for  them  to  regret  the  many  times  they  went  barefoot.  There  was 
no  need  for  them  to  recall  with  a  shiver  the  day  they  fell  in  the 
brook  when  the  ice  broke  uf)on  the  creek.  Was  there  any  disgrace 
in  picking  up  bones  and  selling  them  to  Mr.  Cornell,  the  phosphate 
man,  to  buy  firecrackers  with  on  the  Fourth  of  July?  Not  at  all. 
All  this  was  boys'  fun.  All  the  boys  in  Canaway  did  something 
hke  this.  Many  of  them  flew  kites  with  Ludwig  and  Gottlieb 
in  Blanchard's  pasture  lot.  Many  a  time  a  dozen  or  more  boys 
would  help  Mr.  Mutchler  drive  the  cattle  which  he  bougjit  at  the 
Buffalo  Stock  Yards  from  the  freight  cars  to  his  abattoir  on  the 
Poor  House  road.  There  were  a  thousand  and  one  things  Ludwig 
and  Gottlieb  never  forgot  or  felt  sorry  that  they  had  seen  and  done. 

On  the  contrary,  Ludwig  and  Gottlieb  remembered  their 
exf>eriences  in  Canaway  all  their  lives,  and  perhaps  this  day  they 
are  telling  a  younger  generation,  bom  in  the  city,  of  what  country 
boys  in  America  used  to  do,  just  as  their  own  father  told  them  of 

20 


THE  LUSTIGS  IN  CANAWAY 

his  life  in  Schwersenz.  And  because  all  these  things  happened 
and  were  true,  I  am  telling  them. 

Ludwig  and  Gottlieb  were  not  very  old  when  their  father 
made  known  to  them  that  they  were  Jewish  children.  In  fact, 
they  were  the  only  Jewish  people  in  Canaway.  But  nobody 
fMiid  any  attention  to  that  matter.  The  boys  played  together — the 
Mutchler  boys.  Will  Andrews,  Charles  Ashley,  Charles  Kleinle, 
Art  Elllis,  Speedie  Blanchard,  Pat  Meade's  boys — all  the  boys  on 
Bristol  Street,  Clark  and  Coy  streets,  say  nothing  of  Main,  as  if 
Ludwig  and  Gottlieb  were  no  different  from  the  other  children. 
Nobody  called  them  names;  nobody  referred  to  their  religion;  and 
nobody  knew  that  they  were  Jews  except  for  the  fact  that  Mrs. 
Rosaha  Lustig  usually  sent  Matzoth  in  Passover  week  around 
to  all  her  neighbors.  But  then  the  Lustigs  called  them  crackers, 
and  that  is  all  they  thought  about  it. 

But  in  their  own  household  Herman  Lustig  and  his  wife  tried 
to  preserve  a  few  Jewish  practices.  On  Friday  evening  extra  cand- 
les were  lighted,  and  on  Saturdays  the  boys  were  not  allowed  to 
dig  a  cave  or  build  a  hen  house.  At  first  they  did  not  understand 
the  reason  for  this  rule;  but  Herman  Lustig  made  it  very  clear  by 
saying  that  Saturday  is  the  Jewish  Sabbath,  and  no  hard  work 
must  be  done  on  that  day. 

During  the  week  days  the  boys  ran  in  and  out  of  their  father's 
store.  On  Saturday  aftenKKtn,  and  during  summer  months  on 
Saturday  evening,  they  were  permitted  to  stay  in  the  store. 

This  was  always  a  rare  treat.  On  Saturdays  the  farmers 
came  to  town.  At  every  hitching  post  along  either  side  of  the  main 
street  stood  a  horse  and  a  wagon.  The  farmers  who  stepped  into 
the  store  always  talked  to  the  boys  and  invited  them  to  come  out  to 
their  farms,  and  especially  to  see  a  young  colt  or  a  flock  of  young 
ducks  or  geese  or  turkeys.  The  town  was  a-hum  on  Saturday. 
Every  Saturday  there  seemed  to  be  a  runaway  to  furnish  excitement 

21 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

for  the  rest  of  the  week.  Every  Saturday  something  happened — 
somebody  was  lost  in  the  great  crowds  that  flocked  into  town, 
either  a  baby  or  a  wife  or  a  husband;  something  occurred  that  did 
not  happen  week  days,  and  so  made  the  town  lively. 

Busy  as  Canaway  was  on  Saturday,  it  was  at  its  quietest  on 
Sunday.  EUirly  Sunday  morning  the  church  bells  rang,  sending 
their  tones  over  the  hills  and  far  away.  The  Baptist  Church 
on  Main  Street  started  the  music.  Up  Main  Street  the  sounds 
hastened,  carrying  along  with  them  in  their  train  the  tones  of  the 
Congregational  and  Presbyterian  bells,  quickly  answered  by  the 
Methodist  bell,  and  far  out  on  Upper  Main  Street  by  the  Episcopal 
chapel's,  whose  sweet,  tinkUng  tones  ended  the  strain.  As  soon 
as  the  bells  rang,  the  procession  of  church-goers  began.  From  al- 
most every  house  along  Bristol  and  the  other  streets  some  one 
came  forth  attired  in  his  best  clothes. 

It  was  natural  that  Ludwig  and  Gottlieb,  who  witnessed  this 
scene  every  Sunday  morning,  should  have  their  curiosity  aroused. 
And  it  was. 

"Why  don't  we  go  to  church,  papa?"  Ludwig  asked  his 
father  one  Sunday  morning,  as  he  saw  the  Stuart  children  step 
out  of  the  house,  direcdy  opposite  their  own  home,  and  follow 
close  behind  their  parents  on  their  way  to  the  Congregational 
Church. 

"Our  temple  is  at  Rochester.  We  have  no  church.  We  go 
to  a  synagogue,"  answered  the  father. 

And  with  this  statement  of  the  bare  fact,  began  a  recital  of 
the  history  of  the  Jewish  people  as  Lustig  knew  it.  But  it  was,  in 
truth,  simply  the  briefest  outUne  of  early  Biblical  times,  including 
the  stories  of  Abraham,  Joseph,  Moses,  David  and  King  Solomon. 
Much  of  what  he  told  his  sons,  he  had  heard  in  his  own  father's 
house  in  Schwersenz.  Some  of  it,  too,  he  had  picked  up  in  Cheder, 
which  he  had  attended.     Brief  as  it  all  was,  it  was  sufficient  to 

22 


THE  LUSTIGS  IN  CANAWAY 

interest  the  boys  and  evoke  Lustig  this  wise  saying  as  he  con- 
cluded the  story: 

"You  see,  boys,  we  Jews  try  to  do  the  fair  and  square  thing; 
We  try  to  take  care  of  people  when  they  need  help.  We  study 
and  are  instructed  to  make  a  good  living.  Every  man  should  be 
able  to  work.  Whatsoever  a  man  can  do,  he  should  do  with  all 
his  might." 

But  it  is  not  my  plan  to  now  tell  what  the  Lustigs  did,  as  in 
later  chapters  you  will  hear  how  they  kept  Purim,  Pesach  and 
other  holidays.  To  tell  all  about  it  would  be  like  picking  out  all 
the  raisins  from  a  pudding.  It  is  best  for  us  to  know  something 
about  the  Lustigs  and  their  life  in  Canaway  before  we  know  what 
they  did.     You  will  find  that  out  soon. 

Sunday,  however,  was  the  happiest  day  in  the  week  for  the 
boys,  even  if  it  was  the  quietest  for  the  village. 

On  Sunday  Herman  Lustig  stayed  home,  and,  whenever  the 
weather  permitted,  he  would  take  a  long  walk  in  the  afternoon  with 
his  boys.  At  times  a  carriage  would  be  hired  and  then  Mrs. 
Lustig  would  join  them  for  a  carriage  ride.  Usually,  however, 
she  would  remain  at  home,  and  Mr.  Lustig  and  the  boys  would 
then  stroll  about  the  village. 

Early  Sunday  morning,  after  breakfast,  Herman  Lustig  would 
take  his  boys  out  in  the  garden.  There  were  a  number  of  "odd 
jobs,"  as  Lustig  called  them,  awaiting  his  attention,  and  in  attend- 
ing to  them,  with  the  aid  of  his  two  sons,  the  morning  was  soon 
gone. 

On  Sunday  afternoon,  in  spring  and  autumn,  and  sometimes 
even  in  winter,  they  took  their  long  walks.  Not  a  comer  in  the 
village  nor  in  the  country  immediately  surrounding  Canaway  did 
they  fail  to  visit.  There  was  the  brewery  on  Upper  Main  Street; 
the  Sanitarium  at  the  farther  end  of  Bristol  Street;  the  fire  engine 
house  on  Mechanics  Street;  the  brick  yard  out  on  Saltanstall  Street; 

23 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

the  County  Jail  on  Jail  Street;  the  MacKechnie  residence;  the 
Granger  Place;  the  old  Academy — one  of  the  earliest  classical 
schools  in  Western  New  York,  which  Stephen  A.  Douglas, 
Abraham  Lincoln's  great  rival  attended;  there  was  the  Resser 
Stock  Farm,  which  was  for  Lustig  a  very  important  s{X)t,  as  you 
will  hear  before  this  chapter  closes;  and,  of  course,  there  were  the 
Fair  Grounds.  Every  county  seat  (and  Canaway  is  the  county 
seat  of  Ontario  County)  has  a  court-house,  a  jail,  a  town  pump 
and  a  fair  ground.  For  what  are  county  seats  unless  they  have 
all  these  places  and  buildings? 

Lustig  had  a  dozen  and  one  things  to  tell  the  boys  about  the 
various  places  they  looked  at — how,  for  example,  the  locomotives  on 
the  old  Peanut  Road  (the  Batavia-Canaway  division  of  the  New 
York  Central)  go  to  sleep  in  the  round  house;  how  bricks  are  made 
of  clay  and  sand;  how  ale  is  brewed  from  hops  and  barley  at  the 
brewery;  how  poor  men,  after  they  become  rich,  build  larger  houses 
than  they  need  and  live  long  enough  to  regret  it,  as  was  the  case 
with  the  MacKechnie  residence  on  Upp>er  Main  Street,  which  was 
built  far  away  from  other  f>eoples'  houses  so  as  to  make  towTismen 
believe  rich  p>eople  were  better  than  other  f>eople. 

But  the  boys  could  see  some  things  without  being  shown; 
and  one  thing  there  was  which  required  no  explanation  and  was  a 
joy  in  itself — a  boat  ride  on  Canaway  Lake. 

Quite  often  on  Sunday  afternoons,  in  summer,  when  the  weath- 
er permitted,  Lustig  hired  a  boat  of  old  Mrs.  McCormack  and 
rowed  his  boys  on  the  lake  or  over  to  the  "island."  This  was  not  a 
fictitious  or  imaginary  spot — it  was  not  a  fairyland;  but  it  seemed 
like  one — standing  out  a  mile  or  more  from  the  shore.  Clumps  of 
tall  walnut  trees  and  many  bushes  grew  there;  all  said  to  have 
been  planted  by  the  Indians,  who  at  one  time  held  a  war  council  on 
the  island,  so  the  boys  believed. 

Many  legends  were  associated  with  the  spot.  The  boys 
24 


THE  LUSTIGS  IN  CANAWAY 

knew  them,  and  frequently  visited  the  island.  Hiere  was  a  sand 
bar  reaching  from  it  to  the  main  land,  and  along  this  sand  bar  the 
boys  frequendy  "treaded."    TTiat  was  done  in  this  way: 

Stripping  and  holding  their  clothes  over  their  heads,  diey 
waded  up  to  their  necks,  "treading"  the  water  as  they  went  to  and 
fro  along  the  bar.  He  who  was  able  to  do  this  in  safety — that  is, 
without  wetting  his  clothes — was  considered  an  expert  swimmer. 

The  boys  claimed  there  was  a  hole  on  the  west  side  of  the 
island  which  reached  down  to  China.  All  the  boys  in  Canaway 
knew  that  if  one  digs  a  hole  in  the  ground  and  keeps  on  digging, 
he  will  some  day  reach  China.  And  this  hole  on  the  back  of  the 
island  reached  down  to  China,  because  no  one  had  ever  touched 
bottom  in  that  sp>ot.  Some  say  an  octopus — the  boys  called  it  a 
devil-fish — lived  in  that  hole,  and  was  alive,  ready  to  entagle  a 
victim  in  its  coils.  So  no  one  but  Nick  Carter  ever  swam  there  or 
even  went  near  it,  and  he  never  did  it  a  second  time. 

One  day  Nick  Carter  "stumped"  (which  is  the  Canaway  word 
for  challenged)  the  rest  of  the  crowd  to  dive  in  the  hole.  No  one 
accepted  his  challenge.  And  to  show  his  comrades  that  he  was 
not  afraid  of  any  devil-fish,  Nick  prepared  to  dive  there  himself. 
The  boys  looked  on  in  awe;  he  dove  dowTi.  The  boys  held  their 
breath  in  suspense.  Soon  he  bobbed  up  shouting  and  howling 
like  an  Indian  on  the  war-path.  TTie  devil-fish  had  tried  to  get 
him.  He  could  swear  to  that.  His  foot  had  been  grasped  by  the 
fish.     He  said  so,  and  who  was  there  to  deny  it? 

Some  man  afterwards  discovered  that  it  was  a  branch  of  an 
old  tree  decayed  and  water-logged — dangerous  enough  to  swim- 
mers. But  Nick  swore  it  was  a  devil-fish,  and  the  boys  accepted 
the  story.  Later  he  joined  a  circus,  because  he  could  do  any  tricks. 
But  no  boy  ever  went  near  that  hole  which  reached  down  to 
China — no,  sir! 

There  is  no  prettier  lake  in  the  Empire  Stale  than  Canaway. 
25 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

It  is  large  enough  for  steamboats  to  navigate;  and  in  the  days  of 
the  Lustigs  two  side  or  paddle  wheel  steamers,  the  Canaway  and 
the  Ontario,  pHed  to  and  fro  from  the  "head  to  the  foot  of  the  lake" 
as  the  people  of  Canaway  say;  that  is,  from  Woodville,  the  most 
northerly,  to  the  southernmost  point  of  the  lake,  a  distance  of 
sixteen  miles.  Both  shores  were  dotted  here  and  there  with  small 
summer  resorts,  the  most  famous  ones  being  at  Seneca  Point,  Miller's 
on  the  west  shore,  and  Gates'  and  Willow  Grove,  on  the  eastern 
shore. 

Sometimes  the  German  societies  of  Rochester,  the  Maermer- 
chor  and  Tumverein,  had  an  excursion  to  some  resort  bordering 
on  the  lake.  Whenever  one  of  these  occurred,  Lustig  would 
close  his  store,  and,  with  his  family,  join  his  compatriots  in  a  day's 
outing.     But  this  did  not  happen  every  year. 

The  foot  of  the  lake  is  lined  by  a  wide  margin  of  swamps, 
where  the  cat  tails  and  weeds  grow  rank  and  tall,  and,  in  certain 
sp>ots,  water  lilies,  white  and  yellow  ones,  as  the  boys  who  own  a 
homemade,  flat-bottom  boat  know  full  well.  Wherever  these 
swamps  have  been  drained,  there  is  a  rich,  deep  black  muck,  on 
which  immense  quantities  of  onions  are  raised  and  shipped  to 
such  far-away  places  as  La  Fayette,  Indiana,  and  Topeka,  Kansas. 

The  north  shore  is  crescent-shaped,  but  from  this  broad  base, 
as  it  were,  the  lake  stretched  between  ever-rising  hills,  until  at 
Miller's  it  is  virtually  embanked  by  wooded  slopes,  the  banks 
standing  up  straight  as  a  wall. 

Rowing  out  from  the  quay  at  Mrs.  McCormack's  boat-house, 
one  is  enabled  to  obtain  a  view  of  the  entire  region,  for  the  land 
slopes  north  and  northwestward  till  it  touches  the  sky;  and  over 
this  vast  region  is  spread  a  magnificent  panoramic  view  of  farms, 
orchards  and  vineyards. 

The  town  of  Canaway  itself,  with  the  dome  of  its  court  house 
and  its  many  church  spires,  appears  to  rise  out  of  space.     Far  to 

26 


THE  LUSTIGS  IN  CANAWAY 

the  west,  and  gradually  melting  into  the  sky,  slope  the  fields  of 
grain  and  pastures,  dotted  with  remnants  of  the  original  forest. 
To  the  west  and  north  and  eastward,  the  land  slants  upward,  as 
if  it  were  an  immense  fan,  on  which  some  great  painter  had  drawn 
a  vast  picture  of  rural  life,  and  had  placed  in  the  center  of  the 
picture  a  country  village  with  its  long,  arbored  streets  reaching 
from  the  lake  to  the  upper  crest  of  the  hills,  and  being  interlaced 
and  cut  across  by  side  streets  stretching  from  field  to  field — from 
east  to  west.  At  sunset  the  glow  of  the  sun  lights  up  this  curved 
rim  of  the  landscape  with  sheets  of  red  and  gold;  while  from  the 
east  and  southeast,  over  the  bluffs,  piled  one  against  the  other, 
recalling  fanciful  images  of  some  Alpine  region,  come  darksome 
shadows  purpling  the  encircling  hills  which  rise  up  against  the 
horizon. 

Canaway  and  Canaway  Lake  have  had  their  f)oet.  Many 
years  ago  the  following  verses  appeared  in  the  Ontario  County 
Messenger. 

Lustig  used  to  sing  them  to  his  sons  by  adapting  them  to  a 
tune  made  familiar  in  this  country  by  a  famous  but  sad  song,  known 
to  all  Americans  as  "Maryland,  My  Maryland." 

TTie  Lustig  boys  memorized  the  verses,  and  later  in  their  life, 
whenever  they  recalled  their  childhood  in  Canaway,  they  would 
softly  hum  these  stanzas: 

I 

"For  thee  my  heart  leaps  into  song, 

My  native  town,  my  native  town. 
Men  love  the  places  where  they  dwelt, 

Tlie  hills  and  vales  of  chilhood's  play. 
And  I,  who  at  far  shrines  have  knelt. 

Long  now  to  be  in  Canaway. 

27 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

II. 

"To  dwell    amid  thy  quiet  ways. 

My  native  town,  my  native  town; 
To  walk  thy  tree-arched  streets  and  lanes, 

And  roam  in  gladness  o'er  thy  hills; 
To  hear  the  patter  of  the  rains — 

The  dream  my  inmost  being  fills. 

III. 
"Alas!  a  phantom  hope  art  thou, 

My  native  town,  my  native  town. 
Now  all  my  years  have  growTi  too  short. 

And  boyhood  seems  like  April  snow — 
The  fellows  of  my  youthful  sf>ort 

Are  shadows  of  the  long  ago. 

IV. 

"But  splendid  still  thy  morning  sun, 

My  native  town,  my  native  town. 
And  high  on  Bristol  hill  he  stands. 

But  nightly  ghost-like  moonbeams  glide 
Across  the  lake  and  vine-clad  lands. 

Like  dead  days  ris'n  and  sanctified." 

Ludwig  and  Gottlieb  were  too  young  to  appreciate  the  natural 
beauties  of  their  native  village  and  the  lake  region.  But  so  long 
as  they  lived  they  remembered  the  lay  of  the  land,  as  we  say — 
the  lake  and  surrounding  country.  It  was  only  as  young  men, 
on  revisiting  their  native  townti  that  they  discovered  the  charm 
and  magic  of  the  scenery.  In  those  days  the  mere  pleasure  of  rid- 
ing in  a  boat  over  the  smooth  waters,  along  the  shore  and  under  the 
willows,  in  and  out  of  coves  and  to  and  from  the  island,  with  swift 

28 


THE  LUSTIGS  IN  CANAWAY 

glimpses  of  the  town  before  or  back  of  them,  as  the  case  might  be, 
sufficed  and  answered  all  their  wishes. 

But  this  interest  they  did  have — they  were  eager  and  curious 
to  know  how  their  father  happened  to  come  to  this  particular 
spot  in  America.  One  Sunday,  while  driving  to  the  Sulphur 
Springs  on  the  west  shore  of  the  lake,  five  miles  from  tovm,  the 
subject  came  up,  Ludwig  asking  his  father  how  it  was  that  he 
came   to  Canaway. 

Lustig  answered  promptly:  "Walked.  Yes,  sir,"  he  said 
■I  walked." 

"Tell  us  about  it,  papa,"  GottHeb  urged,  suspecting  that  it 
was  something  worth  knowing.  And,  by  the  way,  there  is  no 
better  place  to  talk  without  being  interrupted  than  on  a  drive  in  the 
country  or  on  a  stroll  along  the  roads. 

Lustig  was  in  a  story-telling  mood,  and  began: 

"One  day,  when  I  was  a  p>eddler — " 

"Were  you  a  peddler?"  inquired  Ludwig,  in  great  surprise. 

"Certainly,"  Lustig  answered,  and  he  let  the  horse  walk  so 
that  he  might  the  better  tell  his  sons.  "When  we  immigrants 
come  from  the  old  country,  the  quickest  way  we  have  to  learn  the 
language  here  is  to  peddle.  Then,  too,  we  must  earn  our  living. 
So  we  peddle.     TTiere's  no  disgrace  in  that." 

His  sons  did  not  understand  exactly  what  he  meant. 

"What  did  you  do?"  Gottlieb  asked. 

"Go  from  house  to  house  trying  to  sell  my  goods,"  Lustig 
explained.  "Most  of  the  time  I  was  in  the  country  among  farmers. 
At  every  farm  house  I  stopped,  I  sold  something,  because  in  those 
days  there  were  few  stores,  and  it  was  difficult  for  farmers  to  get 
to  town.  Tliat's  how  I  started  in  business  in  this  country,  and 
that's  how  every  man  of  my  people  that  I  know  began  his  business 
career." 

Many  people  were  out  driving  this  beautiful  Sunday  after- 
29 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

noon.  Now  and  then  Lustig  would  stop  to  talk  to  his  friends 
whom  he  met  on  the  road.  But  after  a  while  he  resumed  the 
story  that  had  been  interrupted  in  this  way. 

"I  came  over  in  the  time  of  the  Civil  War,  boys,  the  day  after 
the  battle  of  Gettysburg,  as  I  learned  later.  I  did  not  understand 
a  word  of  English.  My  grandfather  had  a  brother  hving  in  New 
York,  whose  address  I  had  obtained  from  my  father  in  the  old 
country.  I  called  on  my  granduncle,  who  was  then  an  old  man. 
He  received  me  pleasantly,  and  set  me  to  work  at  my  trade — that 
was  tailoring.  I  worked  a  month  for  him,  and  then  he  sent  me  to 
some  relatives  who  lived  in  Rochester.  They  supplied  me  with 
a  peddler's  outfit,  and  told  me  to  go  anywhere  in  the  country." 

"Where  did  you  go?"  Ludwig  asked,  with  a  boy's  impatience 
to  know  everything  at  once. 

"Anywhere,"  Lustig  told  him,  carelessly.  "I  did  not  know 
the  country  roads  or  the  language — that  is,  Elnghsh.  But  every 
house  I  stopped  at  they  would  ask  me  to  tell  them  the  news  of  the 
war;  but  I  did  not  know  what  they  meant." 

"De  noose?  De  noose?  I  rep>eated,  just  hke  that." 

h  amused  the  boys  to  hear  their  father  imitate  himself. 

"Noose?  I  hev  henkershiffs,  stockin's,  ribbuns,  lace-goods." 

"Naw,  the  news!  What's  going  on  in  the  war?"  the  farmers 
asked  me,  anxiously. 

"I  shook  my  head.  I  did  not  know  what  they  were  talking 
about;  so  I  unpacked  my  bundles,  opened  my  satchel,  and  showed 
them  the  stuff  I  had  to  sell.  And  they  always  bought  something 
of  me,"  he  added,  with  a  chuckle. 

"Everyone  tried  to  teach  me  how  to  speak  English.  When 
I  said  handkershiffs,  I  would  be  corrected.  Tliey  made  fun  of  me 
in  a  pleasant  way." 

"What  did  they  do,  papa?"  the  boys  asked,  together. 

"Well,  whenever  I  came  to  a  farmhouse,  some  one,  seeing 

30 


THE  LUSTIGS  IN  CANAWAY 

that  I  was  a  foreigner  or  a  greenhorn,  as  we  were  called  in  those 
days,   would  say: 

"'Hello,  Dutchman!  what  have  you  got  to  sell?' 

"I  would  unpack  my  bundles  and  spread  out  my  goods  on  the 
floor.  TTie  men  would  come  in  from  the  fields,  and  then  the 
women  and  children  would  gather  around  me  to  look  at  the  stuff. 
If  it  was  meal  time,  they  would  invite  me  to  take  dinner  with  them, 
although  you  know  that  in  those  days  we  Jewish  men  dare  not  eat 
everything.  Sometimes  I  explained,  as  best  I  could,  why  we  Jews 
were  forbidden  to  eat  pork,  or  drink  milk  in  our  coffee  at  dinner,  or 
Spread  butter  on  our  bread.  But  what  a  mess  I  made  of  it,  trying 
to  tell  them  in  my  broken  English!  Tliey  laughed  at  me,  and 
imitated  my  words,  and  made  me  blush  to  the  roots  of  my  hair. 
Often  they  showed  that  they  wanted  to  convert  me,  and  invited 
me  to  attend  church  with  them  to  hear  their  preacher.  All  asked 
me  questions  about  the  Bible.  No  matter  how  busy  the  farmers 
were,  they  always  had  time  to  talk  with  a  stranger.  TTiey  had 
a  little  fun  with  me;  but  none  ever  said  an  unpleasant  word  to  me ; 
and  only  on  one  instance  was  I  refused  a  night's  lodging.  But 
that's  how  I  came  to  Canaway." 

TTie  boys  were  looking  curiously  at  their  father.  He  kept 
his  horse  on  a  walk,  so  that  he  could  better  tell  them  this  all-imp>ort- 
ant  matter. 

"We  peddlers,  you  know,  could  not  afford  to  stop  over  night 
at  a  hotel.  However,  there  were  no  hotels  where  I  went.  When- 
ever I  came  to  a  farmhouse  about  dusk,  I  asked  the  farmer  or  his 
wife  to  let  me  stop  there  till  morning.  No  matter  how  much  they 
bought  of  me,  they  would  not  accept  pay  for  a  night's  lodging, 
and  very  few  would  accept  pay  for  meals.  People  are  different 
these  days;  but  then,  times  have  changed.  I  must  tell  you  what 
happened  one  night." 

3! 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

"What  was  it?"  they  asked. 

"It  was  over  in  Cheshire.  I  have  forgotten  the  name  of  the 
family.  We  were  seated  in  the  parlor  talking  about  the  Bible 
and  the  Jews;  for  I  had  got  so  I  could  make  myself  understood. 
We  had  been  talking  a  long  time,  and  then  all  went  to  bed.  How 
long  I  had  been  asleep,  I  do  not  remember.  But  I  was  suddenly 
aroused  by  some  one  calling,  *Hey,  Dutchman!    The  bams  afire!" 

"Didn't  they  have  fire  engines?"  Ludwig  asked,  interrupting. 

"Fire  engines  in  the  country!"  Lustig  exclaimed.  "We 
formed  a  bucket  brigade,  I  v^U  tell  you  what  that  is.  When  I 
heard  the  farmer  call,  I  hurried  into  my  clothes  and  rushed  down 
stairs.  The  bam  was  buming.  Great  sheets  of  fire  shot  high 
in  the  air,  lighting  up  the  whole  country  around.  From  every 
part  of  the  neighborhood  men  came  miming  across  the  fields,  those 
coming  from  a  distance  riding  on  horse-back  or  in  wagons.  I 
never  saw  so  many  farmers  in  a  farmyard,  nor  such  excitement  as 
was  there.  Every  one  had  a  plan,  and  they  were  shouting  at  the 
tops  of  their  voices:  'Save  the  house!  Save  the  horses!  Save  the 
cows!'" 

Lustig  imitated  the  hoarse,  wild  cry  of  excited  farm  folks 
his  loud  words  resounding  over  the  fields. 

"Some  cool-headed  men  shouted  out:  'Fire  brigade!  fire 
brigade!'" 

"What  was  that?"  Ludwig  asked,  a  trifle  frightened  by  his 
father's  vivid  description. 

"I'll  tell  you,"  Lustig  said.  "We  formed  in  Hne  instandy  from 
the  well  to  the  fire.  A  couple  of  farmers  kept  pumping  water  from 
the  well.  As  fast  as  the  buckets  were  filled,  they  were  passed  down 
the  line,  and  the  last  man  in  Ime  threw  the  water  on  the  flames. 

"Fortunately,  the  well  was  deep  and  the  pump  new.  We 
had  plenty  of  water  and  saved  a  part  of  the  bam.  Tliat  was  my 
first  exp>erience  as  a  fireman  in  America.     After  I  settled  in  Ger- 

32 


THE  LUSTIGS  IN  CANAWAY 

many,  I  joined  a  volunteer  fire  company.  Every  man  belongs 
to  such  a  company  in  Canaway," 

"We  wall,  too,  when  we  are  men,"  the  boys  said,  proudly. 

"Pshaw!  when  you  are  young  men,  they  will  not  have  fires," 
Lustig  said,  mischievously. 

They  evidently  did  not  understand  what  he  meant,  and,  in 
order  to  spare  them  needless  inquiries,  he  added,  quickly:  "I 
haven't  told  you  yet  how  I  came  to  Canaway,  have  I?" 

"Tell  us,"  they  said,  in  chorus. 

"One  dark  night  I  stopped  at  a  farmer's  house  in  Paddle- 
ford — that's  five  miles  north  of  Canaway.  Do  you  know  where 
it  is?" 

"It's  where  the  train  stops  first  after  it  leaves  Canaway  for 
Rochester,"  Ludwig  answered,  promptly. 

"Elxactly.  The  locomotive  runs  out  of  Canaway  so  fast  it 
must  stop  at  Paddleford  to  get  breath.  That's  right,  son.  It  was 
hop-picking  season;  but  I  did  not  know  it  then,  and  every  house 
was  crowded  with  hop-pickers.  Every  place  I  stopped  at,  I  was 
told  they  were  crowded,  and,  at  their  suggestion,  I  started  to  walk 
to  Canaway. 

"I  was  tired,  and  an  extra  five  miles  to  go  on  a  dark  night, 
with  heavy  things  to  carry,  was  not  a  pleasant  prosp>ect  for  me,  I  can 
tell  you.  But  otf  I  started,  hurrying  as  fast  I  could^with  a  big  pack 
on  my  back  and  filled  satchels  in  both  of  my  hands. 

"For  some  time  I  walked  on.  I  could  scarcely  see.  I  was 
very  tired.  The  pack  on  my  back  and  my  two  satchels  were  grow- 
ing heavier  all  the  time.  I  stumbled  against  stones  and  ran  against 
bushes,  trees  and  fences.  It  was  so  dark  I  could  not  keep  in  the 
road.  All  along  the  way  it  was  as  if  I  was  blindfold.  I  did  not 
know  where  I  was  going.  Finally,  far  dowTi  the  road,  I  saw  a 
tiny  light,  and  I  made  for  it.  After  a  while  I  reached  the  farm- 
house where  the  light  came  from.     And  I  walked  into  the  yard. 

33 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

A  dog  began  to  bark  and  rushed  at  nne.  I  was  accustomed  to 
such  treatment  from  dogs,  and  stood  prepared  to  knock  the  brute 
down,  when  a  man  on  the  porch — I  do  not  to  this  day  how  he 
knew  me — called  out  in  German: 

"'  Hello,  countryman!  Where  are  you  going?" 

"I  was  so  tired  that  I  could  not  answer  politely.  I  walked 
up  to  the  porch,  put  down  my  bundles,  and  the  first  words  I  said 
were:     'Can  I  stay  here  over  night'? 

"Come  in,'  the  farmer  said,  pleasantly;  'come  in,  eat  something 
and  let's  see  who  you  are.' 

"He  spoke  in  German  to  me,  and  that  made  me  happy. 

"As  soon  as  I  went  into  the  house,  the  entire  family  came  into 
the  room  where  I  was.  The  farmer  had  a  large  family.  His 
children  were  young  men  and  women;  and  there  were  some  rela- 
tives, all  living  in  one  farm-house.  They  got  me  something  to  eat 
and  gave  me  some  home-made  v^ne  to  drink.  After  a  httle  while 
I  felt  rested;  but  I  was  too  tired  to  open  my  bundles.  They  asked 
me  my  name,  and  what  part  of  Germany  I  came  from.  Then  I 
asked  again  for  f>ermission  to  stop  there  over  night.  I  was  too  tired 
to  go  farther." 

"'Stop  here?  Certainly,'  the  German  said,  with  evident  pleas- 
ure; but  first  we  go  to  town  to  meet  some  of  our  countrymen.' 

"I  refused,  but  they  persuaded;  and  soon  the  farmer,  his  sons, 
and  I  drove  off  to  town." 

"Who  was  the  man,  papa?"  Ludwig  asked  promptly. 

"What  town  was  it?"  GottHeb  inquired,  before  his  father  had 
time  to  answer  the  first  question. 

Lustig  smiled.  "The  man?  Why,  that's  our  friend  Reeser — 
the  best  friend  I  have  in  Ontario  County.  And  the  town?  Why, 
that  was  Canaway." 

There  was  not  so  much  mystery  to  it  after  all.  The  boys 
34 


THE  LUSTIGS  IN  CANAWAY 

became  suddenly  silenL  It  seemed  their  father  had  reached  the 
end  of  his  story.     But  he  had  more  to  say. 

"That's  how  I  came  to  Canaway.  Old  Yakob  Reeser  and 
his  sons  brought  me  here.  Well,  we  drove  into  town  that  night 
and  up  to  Lem  Sprague's  clothing  store.  We  all  got  out,  and  Rees- 
er took  me  into  the  store. 

"'Lem,'  he  said,  'I  have  found  a  clerk  for  you;'  and  he  pre- 
sented me  to  the  proprietor,  who  was  an  Englishman. 

"'Just  the  man  I  want,'  Sprague  said,  as  he  looked  at  me. 
'Do  you  speak  German?' 

"'Sure,'  Reeser  answered  for  me.  'He  is  a  countryman  of 
mine.' 

"'What's  your  name?'  Sprague  inquired. 

"'Hyman  Lustig,'  I  said. 

"'Hyman,'  he  repeated  after  me.  'Hyman?  Tliat  won't  do. 
Nobody  here  by  that  name.  A  clerk  must  have  a  name  everybody 
knows.     Suppose  you  call  yourself  Herman  instead?' 

"That's  good,'  Reeser  laughed;  'call  him  Dutch  Herman; 
then  every  one  of  his  countrymen  will  buy  clothing  here.'  And 
that  name  has  clung  to  me  to  this  day.  Everybody  knows  me  as 
Dutch  Herman;  but  in  the  old  country  my  name  was  Hyman." 

The  boys  were  not  at  all  surprised  at  the  ease  with  which 
men  change  their  names  in  America. 

"That  was  an  exfjerience  for  me,"  Lustig  resumed,  presendy. 
"Sprague  engaged  me  as  a  clerk  then  and  there;  and  while  we 
were  talking  over  the  arrangement,  Reeser  went  out  and  brought 
back  all  the  Germans  in  town  to  meet  me.  There  were  Singltif 
and  Mutchler,  and  Lintner,  and  Metzger,  and  Adolph  Yahn,  the 
furniture  man,  and  a  dozen  others.  They  all  came  into  the  store, 
shook  hands  with  me  and  urged  me  to  remain  in  Canaway  and 
give  up  peddling.  I  sold  out  my  goods,  and — well,  I  acted  as  a 
clerk  for  Lem  a  whole  year.     Meanwhile  I  learned  how  to  sell 

33 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

clothing  and  sp>eak  English.     Lem  wanted  to  speculate  in  hops. 
So  he  sold  out  to  me,  and  I  started  in  business  for  myself." 

"After  another  year  I  prospered  so  that  I  sent  home  for  mamma 
from  Schwersenz;  and  that's  the  way  Lustig  came  to  settle  in 
Canaway." 


36 


CHAPTER  II. 
IN  SCHWERSENZ 

In  a  peaceful  country  town  like  Canaway  merchants  have 
plenty  of  time  to  visit  their  customers,  and  so  had  Herman  Lustig- 
He  knew  intimately  the  men  who  traded  at  his  store,  and  often 
talked  to  them  about  their  farms,  crops  and  cattle,  and,  naturally, 
their  families.  Pleasant  as  it  was  for  him  to  chat  with  his  cus- 
tomers, it  was  a  still  pleasanter  task  for  him  to  talk  with  his 
two  sons. 

Lustig  always  had  something  to  tell  Ludwig  and  Gottlieb* 
no  matter  what  it  concerned — whether  a  steam  velocif>ede  (a  great 
invention,  he  assured  them,  which  would  make  walking  unneces- 
sary), or  the  new  electric  light,  which  the  boys  thought  a  marvel, 
as  it  did  away  with  sulphur  matches,  wicks  and  kerosene.  What- 
ever the  story  was,  the  boys  were  certain  to  be  interested  and  to 
enjoy  it. 

Whenever  their  father  had  an  idle  hour  he  would  amuse  them 
in  this  way.  Did  they  hapjjen  to  step  into  his  store  on  their  way 
home  from  school  when  Lustig  was  not  busy,  he  would  soon  gather 
them  about  him,  usually  around  the  stove,  and  tell  them  a  story. 
If  a  customer  dropped  in  during  the  course  of  the  story,  either  to 
make  a  purchase  or  to  rest,  he,  too,  would  sometimes  listen  to  the 
tale. 

In  this  way  it  happened  that  the  Lustig  boys  learned  and  heard 
much  of  Schwersenz,  the  native  town  of  Herman  Lustig  and  his 
wife.  Whatever  their  father  remembered  of  the  provincial  town 
of  Poacn,  the  various  accidents  and  incidents  of  his  eventful  boy- 

37 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

hood,  he  told  Ludwig  and  Gotdieb.  He  knew  no  stories  other 
than  the  exfjeriences  that  made  up  his  own  boyhood.  He  had  not 
read  any  story  books,  and  even  if  he  had  taken  his  tales  from  books 
they  would  not  have  been  half  so  interesting  as  the  tales  about 
events  in  which  he  had  taken  part.  Every  story  was  fascinating, 
and  in  every  story  Herman  related  he  figured  prominendy. 

TTie  boys  were  naturally  very  proud  of  their  father  because  of 
what  he  had  done,  and  then  because  of  the  wonderful  events  which 
took  place  in  such  strange,  far-away  places  as  Schwersenz,  the  city 
of  Posen,  and  the  still  greater  city,  Berlin. 

Posen  and  Berlin  are  indeed  great  cities,  but  in  the  estimation 
of  the  Lustig  boys  Schwersenz  was,  in  p>oint  of  interest,  of  greater 
importance,  Schwersenz  was  for  them  the  most  interesting  town  in 
all  the  world.  In  that  old  Prussian-Polish  tovm  of  ELastem  Ger- 
many, three  miles  as  the  crow  flies  from  Posen,  lived  the  oddest 
and  the  funniest  men  and  women  on  earth.  In  no  other  place,  cer- 
tainly not  in  Canaway,  existed  characters  the  like  of  those  that 
lived  in  Schwersenz.  And  Canaway,  it  must  be  remembered,  had 
an  odd  array  of  strange  p>ersons  of  whom  we  will  hear  before  long. 

In  Schwersenz  there  lived  one  p>eculiar  |>erson  knowTi  by  no 
other  name  than  Schayah.  This  Schayah  called  on  every  Jewish 
resident  in  Schwersenz  Friday  afternoon  to  beg  a  pfennig  to  buy  a 
candle  for  his  Sabbath  light  or  a  plate  of  noodle  soup  for  his  Sab- 
bath dinner — to  mention  only  a  few  of  the  uses  he  might  make  of 
the  permies  begged  from  his  fellow  towoismen. 

Of  Schayah  the  boys  heard  many  tales.  He  was  an  old 
bachelor.  No  one  knew  where  he  came  from,  who  his  father  auid 
mother  were,  or  his  brothers  and  sisters,  if  he  had  any.  He  was 
neither  old  nor  young.  TTie  oldest  inhabitant  of  Schwersenz  could 
not  remember  the  day  Schayah  came  to  town.  It  was  a  tradition 
that  the  workmen  in  digging  the  foundation  of  the  very  ancient 
town  hall  dug  him  up.     He  never  changed  in  marmer  or  appear- 

38 


IN  SCHWERSENZ 

ance.  As  he  was  in  the  beginning,  that  is,  in  the  days  of  Lustig's 
own  father,  so  he  was  in  Herman  Lustig's  time,  a  short  black- 
bearded  man,  his  small,  beady  eyes  always  blinking.  He  was  al- 
ways twirling  his  thumbs;  he  was  forever  bowing,  forever  thanking, 
forever  saying  nothing  and  doing  nothing. 

"He  lived  all  alone,"  so  Lustig  asserted, "  in  the  rear  room  of  the 
beadle's  small  house  on  a  side  street."  The  houses  in  Schwersenz 
are  not  numbered,  nor  are  the  streets  named.  Everybody  knew 
where  everybody  lived.  A  family  or  their  decendants  lived  in 
one  and  the  same  house  a  hundred  years  or  more;  and  hence  few 
new  houses  were  built.  Nobody  knew,  for  that  matter,  when 
Schwersenz  was  founded.  There  is  no  record  of  the  day  the  first 
house  was  built.  Tliey  always  were  there,  so  Herman  Lustig 
said,  and  no  one  had  any  reason  to  doubt  him. 

Now,  Schayah,  of  whom  I  am  speaking,  was  neither  a  business 
man  nor  a  laborer.  Had  he  hved  in  America  he  might  have  been 
called  an  errand  boy,  to  judge  from  what  he  did  in  Schwersenz, 
that  is,  whenever  he  did  do  anything.  If  some  one  wanted  to 
send  a  package  to  Posen,  or  to  a  relative  in  a  neighboring  village, 
Schayah  would  be  engaged  to  carry  the  bundle.  He  would  do 
it  too,  but  you  may  be  sure  he  took  his  time  in  delivering  the  pack- 
age or  whatever  it  might  be. 

SuppK)se  it  was  necessary  to  have  a  pair  of  com-stufled  geese 
in  Posen  on  a  certain  Friday  afternoon,  and  Schayah  was  engaged 
to  deliver  the  parcel.  In  order  to  have  him  reach  the  city  of  Posen 
betimes  you  had  to  dispatch  him  on  the  Sunday  previous. 

"Schayah,"  we  would  ask  him  (so  Lustig  said),  "why  does 
it  take  you  so  long  to  carry  a  pair  of  geese  to  Posen?" 

Schayah  would  shrug  his  shoulders,  blink  his  eyes,  and  say, 
as  slowly  he  walked,"Doe8  it  take  me  so  long?" 

"Longer  than  it  took  the  Creator,  blessed  be  He,  to  create 
the  world." 

39 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

'Ach,  yah,"  Schayah  would  answer.  "If  one  walks  too 
fast  the  geese  may  come  to  life  again;  and  see  what  it  would  cost 
in  that  case  to  have  the  geese  prop>erly  slaughtered  a  second  time." 

Schayah  was  not  pressed  for  time,  so  one  might  well  excuse 
him  for  taking  five  days  to  walk  five  miles.  He  was  to  live  a 
hundred  years,  and  took  life  leisurely  in  the  meantime. 

But  he  was  not  the  only  notable  in  the  town.  Tliere  was  one, 
Crazy  Carrie,  as  she  was  called.  She  had  her  own  peculiarities, 
which  nobody  heeded  because  of  her  misfortune.  All  that 
Herman  Lustig  remembered  concerning  pK)or  Carrie  was  a  habit 
she  had  of  dancing  in  the  market  place  on  rainy  days. 

"'Carrie,  Carrie?'  we  boys  would  call  to  her,"  Lustig  ex- 
plained, why  do  you  dance  in  the  market  square  on  rainy  days? 
Come  indoors  or  you  will  catch  cold!'  The  harder  and  louder 
we  called  the  longer  she  danced.  'Carrie,  Carrie,  so  contrary.' 
we  would  say,  'come  in;  it's  raining. 

"TTien  she  would  laugh  and  begin  dancing,  and  sing  some- 
thing   like    this. 

"Rain,  rain,  it  wets  the  stones. 

And  starts  the  pain  in  old  men's  bones. 

"Singing  this  refrain  she  would  dance  harder  and  faster.  TTie 
harder  it  would  rain  the  harder  would  she  dance,  until  some  one 
dragged  her  home." 

The  curious  antics  of  this  unfortunate  woman  amused  the 
boys.  Her  mind  was  unbalanced  by  a  disappointment  in  love,  but 
Lustig  warned  them  against  their  temptation  to  inquire  more  about 
her. 

"Any  one  so  afflicted,"  he  counseled  them,  "is  to  be  pitied. 
You  must  never  tease  an  unfortunate  person,  such  as  a  cripple,  an 
idiot  or  a  fool.  It  is  a  great  sin  to  mock  or  imitate  them.  They 
are   to  be   pitied." 

40 


■^SJP"' 


CRAZY  CARRIE 

Rain,    rain,    it   ic«(i   tht  $tonts.    and  ttaris   tht  Pain    in   old 


IN  SCHWERSENZ 

With  this  advice  he  dismissed  poor  Carrie,  to  tell  them  a  few 
interesting  things  about  Moishe  Stumm,  the  goose  herdsman. 

"In  the  old  country,"  Lustig  would  say,  "some  men  make  a 
living  buying  and  selling  geese.  All  the  week  they  tramp  about 
the  country  buying  geese  and  driving  their  purchase  in  flocks  from 
village  to  village.  When  they  come  to  the  town  market  they  sell 
the  geese;  then  start  out  again  to  buy  more. 

"Well,  this  Moishe  Stumm  was  a  goose  herdsman.  He  lived 
in  Schwersenz.  Early  Sunday  morning  he  started  out  in  his  long 
gray-green  coat,  v/ith  his  long  staff  and  heavy  top  boots.  All  the 
week  he  was  gone.  Late  Thursday  night  or  early  Friday  morn- 
ing he  would  return,  driving  his  geese  across  the  town  square  when 
everybody  was  in   bed." 

"'Quack,  quack,  quack,'  is  the  sound  the  geese  would  make  as 
they  crept  into  town.  Tlie  quacking  of  one  or  two  geese — one 
pays  no  attention  to  that — but  when  a  hundred  geese  wabbled 
into  Schwersenz  at  the  dead  of  night  you  would  think  some  one 
was  beating  a  kettle  drum. 

"Every  one  awoke  with  the  noise.  'Tliere  comes  Moishe 
Stumm  and  his  geese,'  they  would  say,  and  every  goose  goes  bare- 
footed.*" 

Every  character  had  some  singularities  unlike  those  of  any- 
body the  boys  knew  of  in  Canaway.  Herman  Lustig  described 
well  these  traits. 

TTiere  was  Moritz  Biatt,  the  town  baker,  a  little  fat  man, 
whom  the  Schwersenz  boys  loved  to  tease;  and  Gabriel  Fritag, 
the  wine  merchant,  the  wealthiest  merchant  in  Schwersenz,  who 
advertised  his  wealth  by  buying  a  dogcart,  which  he  drove  through 
town,  to  the  envy  of  the  envious  and  the  joy  of  the  boys,  who 
stole  a  ride  whenever  they  could  escap>e  the  merchant's  whip. 
Then  there  was  Leiser  Lesser,  the  town  fiddler,  who  sawed  over 

41 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

and  over  again  his  unmusical  renditions  at  all  the  weddings  in 
Schwersenz. 

All  these  scenes  were  very  vivid  in  Lustig's  mind,  and  vividly 
he  would  describe  them  to  his  boys.  To  their  imaginative  minds 
Schwersenz,  with  those  persons  who  seemed  to  be  created  to  amuse 
children  with  their  strange,  odd  and  curious  sayings  and  doings, 
was  as  romantic  as  fairyland. 

Among  those  of  lesser  fame  whom  Lustig  remembered  were 
Gabriel  Lesser,  the  hunchback  glazier,  son  of  Leiser  Lesser,  who 
was  never  seen  unaccompained  by  his  good  dog.  The  dumb 
animal  was  an  amiable  companion  to  him,  and  to  the  animal 
Lesser  would  turn  whenever  any  one  addressed  him. 

The  dog's  name  was  Schnukle.  "Say,  Schnukle,  what  does 
the  fellow  mean?"  he  would  ask,  whenever  anybody  addressed 
him. 

Schnukle,  the  dog,  would  bark  his  answer. 

"So  the  man  ought  to  break  a  window  in  his  house.  I  haven't 
put  in  a  window  for  him  since  his  first-bom  was  made  a  son  of  the 
covenant." 

"Well,  Gabriel,  how  does  it  go  with  you?" 

He  always  had  an  answer.  "How  does  it  go  with  me?"  he 
would  ask,  looking  down  at  his  dog.  "It  goes  on  two  feet  and 
four  feet.  Is  it  not  so,  Schnukle?  Tell  him  how  it  goes  with  you, 
Schnukle.     On   four   feet?" 

The  dog  barked. 

"On  four  feet,  sir,  on  four  feet.     Good-by." 

TTien  he  would  turn  around  and  walk  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion, as  if  he  were  afraid  to  speak,  poor  fellow.  He  died  many 
years  ago.  But  I  can  see  him  today,  going  down  the  street  with 
his  box  of  glass,  or,  oftener,  with  his  hands  held  apart  in  a  steady 
position. 

"Well.  Gabriel,  how  goec  it?" 
42 


MOISHE  STUMM 

And  evrry  goose   went   harefoottJ. 


IN  SCHWERSENZ 

No  answer. 

"Well,  Gabriel,  why  do  you  hold  your  hands  in  that  one 
position?" 

"Don't  talk  to  me,  or  you  will  break  my  measure.  TTiis  is 
the  measure  of  a  window.     Come,  Schnukle.     Good-by,  sir." 

Gottlieb  and  Ludwig  were  very  anxious  to  meet  these  p>eople 
and  see  for  themselves  how  they  acted.  Schayah,  to  be  sure, 
they  wished  to  see  more  than  any  one,  and  despite  their  father's 
warning,  they  wished  to  see  Carrie  dance  on  rainy  days.  They 
would  hke  to  have  seen  Moishe  Stumm,  the  goose  herdsman; 
Moritz  Blatt,  the  baker;  Leiser  Lesser,  the  fiddler,  and  his  hunch- 
back son,  the  glazier.  These  people  they  would  have  gone  miles 
merely  to  look  at.  Also  did  they  want  to  see  Nicholas  Polauski, 
the  Polish  town  watchman,  who  guarded  the  streets  and  houses  at 
night,  and  every  hour  sung  out  low  but  musically,  "One  o'clock, 
two  o'clock,  three  o'clock,  four  o'clock,  five  o'clock,  and  in  winter, 
six  o'clock.  In  summer  time  he  stopped  at  five  o'clock.  TTiis 
was  the  hour  for  busy  people  to  be  up.  At  this  hour  the  old  wooden 
shutters  were  unbolted,  the  good  housewives  started  for  the  town 
pump  to  get  a  bucket  of  fresh  water,  and  the  whirl  and  bustle  of 
domestic  cares  began  again  and  continued  its  monotonous  round. 
For  every  day  was  aHke  in  Schwersenz,  as  far  as  the  women  were 
concerned. 

But  there  were  other  things  besides  the  peculiar  j)eople  which 
they  wished  to  see.  There  was  the  old  house,  with  its  low  ceiling, 
in  which  Lustig  was  bom.  TTiere  was  the  porcelain  stove  stand- 
ing in  the  comer,  on  the  top  of  which  Lustig  assured  his  sons  he 
had  often  slept  on  cold  winter  nights.  Then  it  was  he  heard  the 
wind  roar  down  the  chimney  and  growl  at  little  children.  Ludwig 
and  Gottlieb  would  also  like  to  see  how  sand  was  strewn  over  the 
hard  wood  floor  instead  of  carpet;  and  more  than  all,  they  wished 
they  had  a  curtained  bed  to  sleep  in  from  which  they  could  peek 

43 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

out  early  in  the  morning,  when  the  roosters  began  their  serenades. 
They  were  strange  roosters,  these  Schwersenz  roosters;  and 
Lustig  soon  convinced  his  sons  that  the  Schwersenz  roosters  actu- 
ally sang  and  talked.     Every  morning  the  roosters  would  begin: 
Kick-er-e-kick-er-e-koo! 
Good  mom,  I  say  to  you. 

I  am  the  cock;  it's  4  o'clock — 
Good  mom,  I  say  to  you. 

"Oh,  papa,"  Ludwig  interrupted  his  father,  "do  the  roosters 
talk  in  Schwersenz?" 

It  was  astonishing  what  marvelous  creatures  these  Schwersenz 
roosters  were,  and  the  boys  stared  at  their  father  in  wonderment 
as  he  continued: 

"Certainly,"  Lustig  affirmed  dryly.  "In  Schwersenz  the 
roosters  sing,  and  so  do  the  hens." 

"Well,  my  bantam  rooster  doesn't  sing,"  GottHeb  promptly 
interrupted.  "When  I  go  near  him  he  flies  away  and  won't  talk 
to  me." 

"Oh,  you  don't  understand  their  language,"  his  father  returned 
slyly.  "King  Solomon — you  remember  I  told  you  about  the  wise 
king  who  knew  the  language  of  birds  and  beasts — he  could  talk 
to  his  hens  and  roosters.  But  in  Schwersenz  we  boys  learned  to 
talk  to  the  chickens  just  as  he  did." 

"Mrs.  Ashley's  hens  don't  sing,  either,  papa,"  Ludwig 
hastened  to  add,  still  incredulous  and  mystified.  "I  listened  all  day 
to  her  hens  to  hear  them  talk,  but  they  never  speak  hke  you  do." 

"Oh,  they  don't  talk  like  people.  They  cackle  in  chicken 
talk.  Some  day  when  you  go  in  the  back  yard  and  listen  you  will 
hear  the  hens  say: 

"Kluck,  kluck,  kluck, 
Wish  me  luck. 
One  egg  for  Millie, 

44 


IN  SCHWERSENZ 

Another  one  for  Meg — 
Out  here  in  the  nest 

A  fre^  white  egg." 

Not  only  the  people,  but  the  dogs  and  cats,  the  chickens  and 
geese,  the  cows  and  horses  of  Schwersenz  were  marvelous  creatures. 
There  were  no  beings  on  the  face  of  the  earth  like  the  men  and 
animals  of  that  old  town.  No  wonder,  then,  the  boys  were  curious 
to  see  this  wonderful  place. 

Then  there  was  the  old  wind  mill,  out  a  short  distance  from 
the  town.  It  was  a  very  old  stone  mill,  with  big  broad  arms  which 
used  to  turn  slowly  around  whenever  the  v^nd  blew  hard,  groaning 
as  they  turned,  as  if  in  pain.  Every  time  the  wind  blew  the  mill 
moaned  like  one  suffering  from  a  fatal  sickness.  In  the  daytime 
the  moaning  frightened  no  one.  But  on  dark,  stormy  nights  the 
mill's  groaning  would  wake  people  up,  and  then  the  good  folk  of 
Schwersenz,  aroused  from  their  sleep  by  these  unpleasant  sounds, 
would  sit  up  in  their  beds  and  listen.  It  was  only  the  old  grist  mill. 
"The  old  mill  is  groaning,"  they  would  say;  "some  one  is  dying," 
and  then  they  would  fall  asleep  again. 

But  this  was  not  so  with  the  children.  Hearing  the  old  mill 
they  would  wake  up,  hearken,  and  then  cover  their  heads  in  fright, 
for  fear  the  groaning  monster  might  come  and  strike  them  w^ith  one 
of  its  immense  arms. 

"We  have  no  mills  here  in  Canaway,  have  we,  papa?"  the 
boys  asked,  when  Lustig  told  them  about  the  ancient  wind  mill. 

"Yes,  we  have.  We  have  a  saw  mill,  a  grist  mill,  a  sf>oke 
factory  and  a  brick  yard,  and  some  farmers  in  Hop>eville  have 
wind  mills." 

"But  they  are  not  like  the  mill  in  Schwersenz?"  Gottlieb 
inquired.  They  don't  make  any  noise,  and  then  you  can't  see 
them." 

"Well,  this  is  America.     Here  people  are  too  busy  to  pay  any 
45 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

attention  to  a  wind  mill.    Once  we  boys  tried  to  stop  the  mill. 
Did  I  ever  tell  you  about  that  incident?" 

"No,  no!"  they  cried  in  chorus,  delighted  at  the  prospect  of 
another  story. 

"Once  we  Schwersenz  boys  thought  we  would  play  a  trick 
on  the  old  mill  and  stop  it.  There  was  Mendel  Lesser,  Morris 
Lesser,  the  fiddler's  son;  Adolph  Rich  (my  cousin),  Ludwig  Levi- 
sohn  and  myself. 

"We  got  some  strong  string,  and  one  moonlight  night  we 
started  out  to  tie  the  arms  of  the  old  mill.  Out  in  the  fields  it  stood, 
a  big  black  object  against  the  sky.  We  went  up  to  it  as  quietly 
as  we  could,  so  that  we  might  not  start  it.  For  the  mill  was  alive 
you  know,  and  if  any  one  came  near  it  it  would  start.  Round  and 
round  the  arms  would  whirl,  beating  the  air  amd  chasing  the  moon. 
Every  time  the  mill  turned,  'Ouh,  ouh,  groo,  groo,'  it  would  sing, 
just  like  that. 

"We  crept  up,"  Lustig  continued,  "quiet  as  mice.  The  mil| 
did  not  hear  us.  But  we  were  frightened;  so  scared  we  dare 
scarcely  breathe.  I  could  hear  my  heart  pounding  inside  of  me, 
and  once  Mendel  Lesser  stumbled  on  a  stone  and  began  to  cry. 

"'Keep  still,'  we  told  him,  'for  the  mill  will  hear  us  and  nm 
after  us.' 

"So  he  hushed,  and  on  we  marched.  I  took  out  my  rof>e  and 
tied  it  around  the  big  wooden  arms,  and  Adolph  Rich  tied  his 
string  around  another  arm.  Mendel  Lesser  stood  between  us  to 
warn  us  if  the  old  miller  should  happen  to  see  us.  No  man  came^ 
so  we  tied  the  arms  as  tight  as  we  could. 

"Suddenly,  I  tell  you  it  was  so  quick  I  didn't  know  how  it 
happened,  the  mill  started  and  lifted  Adolph  in  the  air. 

"'Mendel,  Hyman,  Morris!'  he  cried,  'take  me  dowTi.  The 
old  mill's  going  to  eat  me  up.  Take  me  down!'  My  heavens,  we 
were  scared.    Tliere  was  Adolph,  up  in  the  air,  hanging  to  an 

46 


IN  SCHWERSENZ 

arm  of  the  mill  and  crying  and  screaming  so  loud  that  you  could 
hear  him  in  Posen. 

"Then  we  all  began  to  scream.  We  made  so  much  noise 
the  old  miller  heard  us  and  crept  out  of  his  Httle  hut  inside  the  mill, 
swinging  his  lantern. 

"'Here!  What  is  this!'  he  yelled  at  us. 

"'Take  me  down,  take  me  down!'  Adolph  cried,  'take  me 
down!'" 

"'Get  down  yourself.  You  got  up  there  yourself,  now  get 
down  yourself!' 

"'Oh,  dear,  oh,  dear,  I  can't  get  down.  The  mill  will  eat 
me  up,' 

"'So,  so'  the  miller  exclaimed.  'The  mill  will  eat  you  up? 
Since  when  are  you  rye?  Are  you  grain  you  little  fool?  The 
mill  eats  grain.     What  do  you  want  up  there?  Come  down,  I  say.' 

"'We  wanted  to  stop  the  mill.  It  makes  too  much  noise.  It 
frightens  us  and  we  can't  sleep,'  we  told  him,  all  shaking  in  our 
boots  with  fright. 

"'Ah,  ha,  you  Schwersenzer  rascals,  want  to  stop  my  mill? 
Are  you  stronger  than  the  wind?  Want  to  stop  the  wind?  The 
wind  turns  the  mill,  the  mill  grinds  the  grain,  and  the  grain  feeds 
the  people.     Stop  the  wind,  eh?  You  rascals!' 

"'Take  me  down,  take  me  down.  I  will  never  do  it  again!' 
Adolph  cried. 

"'  Ah,  play  tricks  on  the  old  miller?  Stay  up  there  and  go  to 
sleep.     When  the  wind  blows  you  will  come  down.' 

"Take  me  down.     I'm  falling.     Quick,  take  me  down!' 

"Ach,  you  silly  boys.  Take  hold  of  this  arm  and  pull  it.' 
We  all  took  hold.  'Say,  you,  up  there,'  he  called  to  Adolph, 
'hold  on  now  and  we'll  pull  you  down.  "Around  came  the  arms," 
and  Lustig  illustrated  the  motion  by  a  wide  whirl  of  his  arms. 
"Slow,  slow  it  turned  around.  When  Adolph  was  near  enough 

47 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

to  the  ground  he  let  go  and  fell,  and  then,  jumping  to  his  feet  a< 
quickly  as  he  could,  he  ran  home,  and  all  of  us  after  him. 

"We  never  went  near  that  that  mill  again.     No,  siree." 

The  boys  breathed  easier  when  Adolph  and  his  friends  were 
safely  home  and  in  bed.  But  one  story  invited  another.  One 
never  satisfied    them,  especially  on  a  dull,  rainy  afternoon. 

"What  else  did  the  boys  do?"  they  asked  their  father. 

"Oh'  we  went  to  school,  just  as  you  do  here."  Lustig  answered* 
"We  called  it  Cheder,  and  our  teacher  was  a  man." 

Just  this  hint  that  at  one  time  their  own  father  attended  school 
was  sufficient  to  make  them  ask  many  questions  about  it  and  his 
teacher.  Having  nothing  better  to  do,  Lustig  told  them  all  he 
knew  about  his  school  life. 

"In  the  old  country  we  went  to  school  at  6  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing in  summer  time,  and  at  7  in  winter  months.  And  we  stayed 
there     all     day. 

"Our  school  was  a  rear  room  of  the  synagogue.  The  teacher 
would  stand  at  his  desk  when  we  entered  the  room,  looking  very 
sharply  at  us.  Sometimes  the  room  was  cold.  We  boys  were 
always  cold. 

"'Open  your  books',  our  teacher  would  say,  'and  begin.'" 

"All  of  us  then  read  the  morning  prayers  from  the  prayer 
book.  That  is  how  we  started.  After  that  we  would  turn  to  the 
older  boys  and  begin  a  translation  from  the  five  books  of  Moses. 
If  any  one  missed  a  word  or  forgot  the  meaning  of  it  he 
would  rap  them   over  the   knuckles. 

"'Forget,  do  you?'  the  teacher  would  say,  'I  told  you  Dabash 
means  honey.  Tliat's  something  to  eat.  You  can  do  that — eat. 
But  learn,  no.  You  forget  everything.  Dabash  means  honey. 
Now  remember  it.'  And  he  would  hit  the  unfortunate  scholar 
over  his  knuckles  to  make  him  remember.  He  used  a  long  ruler, 
and  it  was  hard  as  a  stone.     I  tell  you  it  hurt." 

48 


8~~Z~ 


THE  SCHWERSENZ  MILL 

Ih   ran    home,    and    all  of  u,   after    h, 


IN  SCHWERSENZ 

The  boys  looked  very  sober  and  surprised  as  Lusdg  winced. 
The  recollection  of  this  petty  chastisement  was  still  clear  in  his 
memory, 

"Oh,  it's  different  in  this  country.  I  know  that,"  he  said, 
noticing  the  sober  laces  of  his  sons.  "Our  school  room  was  very 
small  and  the  small  windows  did  not  let  in  much  Hght.  In  winter 
time  the  supply  of  wood  would  sometimes  bum  out,  and  then  there 
would  be  no  logs  left  in  the  bin.  The  wind  rattled  the  windows, 
and  the  snow  blew  down  into  the  chimney  and  into  the  stove  and 
put  out  the  fire. 

"Up  and  dowTi  our  teacher  walked,  wrapping  his  sheep  skin 
coat  about  him  and  drawing  his  fur  cap  dovm  over  his  ears.  All 
one  could  see  of  his  face  was  two  black  eyes  and  his  long  side 
curls  hanging  from  his  temples. 

"'See,  now,  you  bad  boys!  Fool  your  teacher,  will  you? 
Put  snow  in  the  stove,  will  you?  All  day  long  you  must  stay  here 
and  study.  An  extra  passage  for  you  all  in  addition.  Now, 
study!' 

"Up  and  down  the  room  he  walked,  his  arms  folded,  turning 
now  to  this  boy  and  then  to  that  boy.  'Here,  you,  study.'  To 
that  one  he  said,  'study.'  Study  hard,  all  of  you,  and  you  will 
get  warm.'" 

"Did  you  have  a  vacation?"  Ludwig  asked. 

"Every  Friday  afternoon  and  all  day  Saturday." 

"Friday  afternoon?"  they  asked  in  astonishment.  "We  go  to 
school  on  Friday,  and  sometimes  we  sp>eak  pieces  on  Fridays." 
Gottlieb   informed   his  father. 

"We  had  to  get  ready  for  Schabbus,  you  know.  Friday 
was  a  busy  day  in  Schwersenz.  We  boys  had  to  brush  our  clothes, 
polish  our  boots,  and  then  be  washed  and  combed.  Friday 
night  and  Saturday  were  the  great  events  of    the  week.    There's 

49 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

nothing  like  it  here  in  America.     Schabbus  was  a  great  day  for 
the  boys." 

"What  did  you  do?"  they  inquired,  expecting,  of  course,  that 
the  usual  doings  of  the  Schwersenz  boys  meant  something  very 
exciting. 

"I  will  tell  you  why  we  boys  waited  for  Friday.  On  that  day 
we  went  to  the  town  baker." 

"What  was  his  name?"  Ludwig  asked. 

"Haven't  I  ever  told  you  of  Moritz  Blatt,  the  town  baker?" 

"Tell  us  something  about  him,  papa." 

"In  Schwersenz,"  Lustig  began,  leisurely,  enjoying  the  telling 
of  these  events  of  his  boyhood  as  much  as  his  sons  did  the  hearing 
of  them,  "everybody  can  not  afford  a  baking  oven.  Wood  was 
expensive,  and  so  was  peat,  a  kind  of  soft  coal.  The  hard  coal 
we  use  in  this  country  is  unknown  in  Germany.  So  a  man  builds 
an  oven  and  bakes  all  the  cakes  and  bread  for  the  people  in  his 
oven." 

"Like  Smith's?"  Gottlieb  suggested,  referring  to  the  local 
steam  bakery,  which  manufactured  a  famous  soda  biscuit. 

"No,  no;  nothing  like  that,"  Lustig  told  them.  "Our  village 
baker,  Blatt,  lived  in  a  little  house  on  a  side  street.  In  his  kitchen 
he  had  a  big  porcelain  stove.  In  that  he  did  all  his  baking.  What 
fun  we  had  with  him,  more  fun  with  him  than  with  any  other  man 
in  Schwersenz." 

Lustig  laughed  at  his  own  recollection  of  the  baker. 

"Blatt  was  a  little  fat  man,"  he  told  them,"  with  big,  fat  fingers, 
and  a  face  as  round  as  a  pumpkin — or  it  would  have  been  had  he 
shaved  off  his  beard  as  men  do  in  this  country.  Out  there  no  one 
is  clean  shaven,  and  his  gray  beard  was  always  full  of  flour. 

"Well,  sir,  when  I  came  in  with  the  dough — my  mother  of 
blessed  memory,  what  cakes  she  baked!  TTiere  were  no  other 
cakes  in   all  Schwersenz  as  sweet  as   those    my  mother  made. 

50 


IN  SCHWERSENZ 

The  dough  was  prepared  at  home,  and  one  of  us  carried  it  to  the 
baker. 

"'So,  so' — this  is  what  Blatt  would  say.  'Lustig's  cake!' 
Then  he  would  lift  the  napkin  my  mother  had  wrapped  around 
the  dough,  and  look  at  it  as  if  it  were  some  precious  jewel.  'A 
bunt  kuchen  this  week?  The  Fritag's,  the  Grau's,  the  Solomon's, 
all  bunt  kuchen.  Last  week  raisin  cakes,  this  week  bunt  kuchen. 
So,  So.  Schwersenz  is  richer  than  Posen.  In  Posen  they  eat 
bread.  TTiat's  good  enough  for  them.  But  we  Schwersenzers 
are  richer.     We  eat  cake.' 

"He  would  keep  that  up  all  day  if  you  didn't  stop  him.  To 
get  an  answer  one  had  to  go  up  to  him  and  pull  at  his  apron. 

"'When  will  our  cakes  be  ready,  Herr  Blatt?' 

"'Ready?  Ready?  How  can  I  bake  your  cakes?  My 
oven's  full!' 

"He  always  told  us  the  same  thing — his  oven  was  full;  so  we 
never  paid  any  attention  to  him.  We  didn't  care  what  he  said- 
We  boys  wanted  a  piece  of  cake. 

"'Herr  Blatt,'  we  would  say,  'give  us  a  piece  of  cake.' 

"'So,  so.  Cake  is  what  you  want?  Hungry  again.  I  have 
no  cake.     I  am  baking  bread.     My  oven's  full  of  bread.' 

"'Oh,  please,  Herr  Blatt,  give  us  a  piece  of  cake.  We  will 
grease  a  pan  for  you;  pit  raisins;  run  errands — please  give  us  a  piece 
of  cake.' 

"But  he  wouldn't  give  us  anything.  He  pretended  not  to 
hear  us  and  began  dancing  around  the  kitchen,  throwing  a  handful 
of  flour  into  a  pan,  opening  his  oven  door  and  squinting  his  eyes  at 
the  things  in  the  oven. 

"We  boys,  of  course,  would  not  leave.  If  he  refused  to  give 
us  anything,  we  pulled  his  apron  strings  and  then  said: 

"'Herr  Blatt,  your  apron  strings  are  untied.  Give  us  a  piece 
51 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

of  cake,  and  we  will  tie  your  apron  strings  for  you  so  they  will  never 
come  untied.' 

"'Some  more  nonsense.  So,  so;  be  gone  now,  or  there  will 
be  no  Schabbus  cake  in  Schwersenz  tonight.'  And  he  would 
start  towards  us  as  if  he  meant  to  hit  one  of  us,  striking  out  his 
arms  anywhere. 

"But  we  were  as  quick  as  he.  One  of  us  would  take  a  pan 
and  drop  it  on  the  floor.  He  would  run  and  pick  it  up.  Then  an- 
other one  would  run  behind  him  and  untie  his  apron  strings.  TTiat 
would  make  him  angry. 

"'Here,  you  rascals,  take  this  and  leave  me.' 

"And  he  would  throw  some  cookies  at  us,  and  off  we  scamp- 
ered. 

TTiat  was  great  fim,  boys.  What  fine  cookies  they  were. 
Almost  as  good  as  those  we  had  after  Kiddush." 

"What  was  that?"  The  strange  word  attracted  them,  so 
Lustig  explained: 

"In  every  Jewish  home  in  Schwersenz  the  father  gives  Kid- 
dush. That  is  a  little  service  at  his  table  to  welcome  the  Sabbath 
day.  About  six  o'clock  in  the  evening  the  men  and  boys  of 
Schwersenz  go  to  Schule,  and  after  Schule  we  go  home  for  Kiddush. 
Before  we  ate  our  supp>er  my  father — your  grandpa — would,  after 
pronouncing  the  blessing  over  the  wine,  as  he  always  did  over  the 
bread,  give  each  of  us  a  sip  of  it.  And  calling  each  of  his  children 
to  his  side,  he  blessed  us,  putting  his  hand  on  our  heads,  and  told 
us  to  grow  up  to  be  useful  men  and  women. 

"That  was  Kiddush;  and  then  we  were  ready  for  supper. 
By  that  time  we  were  very  hungry.  We  were  always  hungry — 
and  on  Friday  night  we  had  a  fine  supp>er.  My  mother  would 
bring  in  fish  and  noodles  and  cakes.  Sometimes  we  would  not 
have  enough  to  eat,  but  on  Friday  night  we  always  had  a  plenty. 
That  was  the  happiest  night  in  the  week, 

52 


IN  SCHWERSENZ 

'After  supf)er  everyone  was  feeling  first-rate;  my  father  would 
tell  us  stories  just  as  I  have  been  telling  you.  He  had  so  many 
things  to  relate  about  the  French  soldiers  that  marched  against 
Moscow  when  he  was  a  little  fellow;  stories  from  the  Bible  about 
Abraham,  Joseph,  Moses,  David  and  Solomon — all  the  great 
men  of  Israel.  I  never  forgot  them.  And  other  stories 
from  Talmud  about  the  man  who  slept  longer  than  Rip  Van 
Winkle,  and  the  traveler  who  walked  through  a  tunnel  that  was 
made  of  the  bone  of  a  giant.  Oh,  what  stories  he  knew!  Ah! 
you  should  have  heard  him — he  could  tell  stories. 

"Those  were  great  days,  boys;  we  haven't  anything  like  that 
in  America." 

The  boys  did  not  understand  what  their  father  meant,  but  he 
was  in  the  mood  for  story  telling,  so  they  did  not  interrupt  him. 
No  customer  came  into  the  store.  Tlie  dull  March  afternoon  in- 
vited this  diversion. 

"No,  sirree!  I  will  never  forget  Friday  nights  in  Schwersenz. 
I  can  now  see  my  father  and  mother  sitting  around  the  table,  with 
all  their  children  about  them.  On  such  nights  we  burned  four 
candles,  on  other  nights  one,  unless  we  did  without  them  altogether. 
On  that  night  we  had  a  snow-white  table  cloth,  other  nights  we 
had  none.  I  tell  you,  boys,  we  do  not  know  how  fortunate  we 
are  here  in  America.  Sometimes  my  father  was  at  his  wits  end, 
thinking  how  he  was  to  buy  food  for  us  all.  He  looked  sad  and 
down-hearted.  But  Friday  evenings  he  was  happy,  and  so  was 
my  mother. 

"We  never  had  comp>any  on  any  day  of  the  week  but  Friday. 
Once  my  father  brought  a  young  man  home  from  Schule.  He 
was  merely  a  boy.  He  was  tall  and  curly-headed,  with  two  little 
curls  hanging  down  the  sides  of  his  young  boyish  face.  His  eyes 
were  very  large  and  bright.     I  remember  that,  because  he  looked 

53 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

at  everyone  and  smiled  and  winked  his  eyes  as  if  he  wished  to 
please  us. 

"What  a  surprise  he  gave  us!     I'll  tell  you  what  he  did: 
"After  supper  my  father  asked  him  to  sing,  and  he  did.     I 
have  never  heard  anyone  sing  better  than  he,  and  no  wonder.     He 
went  to  Berlin  afterward,  and  when  they  heard  him  they  engaged 
him  for  the  of>era.     And  he  afterward  became  famous. 

"I  do  not  remember  all  he  sang,  but  this  is  one  of  the  songs: 

"  'When  is  the  Jew  in   Paradise, 

Unchained  from   want  and  care? 
When  joy  wings  words  of  happiness. 

And    peace    perfumes    the    air; 
When  is  the  hour  his  heart  is  light, 

And  slow  he  is  to  grieve? 
The   Jew  has  but  one   Paradise, 

And  that  is  Friday  eve. 

"  'A  noble  queen,  she  comes  to  bless. 

And  bear  his  cares  away. 
To  every  home  this  Princess  comes 

And    sanctifies    the    day. 
Tlie  rich  and  poor,  both  old  and  young, 

With    gratitude    receive 
The*Sabbath  princess  of  the  Jew, 

Their  guest  of  Friday  eve. 

"  'Who  sees  her  face  Shekinah-like, 

He  lives  a  hundred  years; 
His  children's  children  bless  her  name, 

For  all  that  she  endears; 
Her  sacred,  silent  footsteps  pass 

Through  every  heart  and  leave 
A3!  thousand  blessings  for  the  joy 

She  gives  on  Friday  eve.' 

54 


IN  SCHWERSENZ 

"Now,  that's  all  I  remember  of  the  song,  boys,"  Lustig  hastened 
to  add,  in  order  to  keep  them  from  asking  him  to  recite  another 
poem.  For  he  had  made  no  attempt  to  sing  it,  but  merely  repeated 
the  words  of  the  song. 

Finally  Gottlieb  asked  him,  after  hearing  so  many  stories  and 
adventures  of  this  famous  town:     "Why  did  you  leave  it?" 

That  anyone  should  ever  wish  to  quit  this  enchanted  place 
passed  understanding, 

"Why  did  I  leave?"  Lustig  laughed.  "To  make  a  living, 
boys;  to  make  a  living.  Ah!  Schwersenz  is  a  good  place  to  be 
bom  in,  but  not  to  stay  in." 

They  did  not  comprehend  this,  as  he  soon  realized  by  the 
blank  look  on  their  faces. 

"This  is  how  I  left  Schwersenz,  boys,"  he  said  slowly.  "The 
day  after  my  Barmitzvah — that  is,  when  I  was  thirteen  years  old — 
my  father  said;  'Hyman' —  that  was  my  name  in  the  old  country — 
'Hyman,  now  it  is  time  for  you  to  go  to  work  and  earn  your  own 
living  like  a  man.' 

"So  he  took  me  to  Jacob  Solomon,  the  tailor,  and  Mr.  Solomon 
engaged  me  to  learn  the  tailoring  business.  He  gave  me  a  needle 
and  thread  and  a  place  to  get  on  his  working  table,  and  told  me 
to  watch  him.  That's  the  way  I  began  my  trade.  After  I  had 
been  with  him  a  few  years  he  told  me  it  was  time  to  start  on  my 
apprentice  journeys.  Every  mechanic  in  Germany  travels  about 
the  country  and  works  under  different  bosses,  so  as  to  learn  the  best 
methods  of  the  trade.  Well,  when  I  was  ready,  I  tied  my  clothes 
in  a  bundle  and  told  my  father  and  mother  I  was  ready  to  leave 
home." 

I  called  on  all  my  friends  and  bade  them  farewell.  I  had  to 
see  everybody  I  said  good-by  to  Schayah;  to  crazy  Carrie;  to 
Moishe  Stumm,  the  goose-herdsman;  to  Leiser  Lesser,  the  fiddler; 
to  Moritz  Blalt,  the  baker;  to  Mr.  Grau;  to  Mr.  Fritag,  to  Mendel 

55 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

and  Morris  Lesser,  and  to  Adolph  Rich — to  every  boy  and  girl  in 
town.  I  said  good-bye  to  everyone  and  everybody  said  good-bye 
to  me.  One  gave  me  a  necktie,  another  a  pair  of  stockings,  one 
made  a  cake,  and  one  little  girl  whose  name  was  Rosalia" — 

"That's  mamma's  name,  papa,"  Gottlieb  promptly  interrupted. 

'Yes,  I  know  that,"  Lustig  said,  pleasantly.  "Well,  this 
little  girl  named  Rosalia  gave  me  a  bouquet,  and  I  kept  that  bouquet 
pressed  in  my  coat  pocket  for  years. 

"When  the  hour  came  for  me  to  leave  home,  my  mother  kissed 
me  and  then  cried  and  kissed  me  again  and  again:  'My  son,  I  am 
your  mother.  I  gave  you  life.  Now  I  send  you  into  the  world. 
Be  kind,  be  honest,  be  industrious,  and  the  Lord  will  never  forsake 
you.     This  is  your  mother's  blessing.' 

"Well,  sir,  she  cried;  I  cried.  My  younger  brothers  and 
sisters,  seeing  all  of  us  in  tears,  wept  also,  and  then  my  father  took 
me  by  the  hand  and  we  started  out." 

"Didn't  you  take  the  cars?"  they  asked. 

"No,  no.  There  were  no  cars  in  those  days.  We  walked. 
My  father  led  me  down  the  street.  Everybody  came  to  wave 
good-bye  and  wish  me  good  fortune.  I  crossed  the  market  square 
where  I  had  played  so  many  times;  passed  the  old  pump  where  I 
had  filled  so  many  buckets  of  water — passed  all  the  houses  of  the 
street.  And  I  tell  you  when  I  came  to  the  last  house  and  knew 
that  I  was  going  out  of  Schwersenz,  my  heart  sank  and  I  could 
hardly  walk.  My  father  was  at  my  side.  He  never  said  a  word 
till  we  came  to  the  Jewish  burial  ground  just  outside  of  the  town  on 
the  Posen  road.     Then  he  stopped. 

"This  is  as  far  as  I  can  go  with  you,  my  son.  I  have  started 
you  on  your  way.  Now  you  must  go  alone.'  He  kissed  me  and 
began  to  cry. 

56 


IN  SCHWERSENZ 

"When  I  saw  him  weep,  I  knew  he  fek  bad.  I  began  to  feel 
weak  and  my  knees  shook.  I  turned  pale,  so  I  supf>ose,  and  the 
cold  iweat  stood  on  my  forehead.  I  used  to  think  it  was  fun  to  go 
away  from  home.  Now  that  I  was  actually  going,  I  felt  sorry. 
I  wished  I  could  turn  back  and  never  leave.  But  it  was  too  late. 
I  must  make  my  owti  living  in  the  world. 

"My  father  soon  dried  his  tears,  and,  taking  me  by  the  hand, 
looked  me  straight  in  the  eyes.  'Hyman,'  he  said,  solemnly,  'your 
father  is  a  very  poor  man.  Little  has  he  been  able  to  give  you. 
All  that  he  gave  you  was  the  blessing  of  a  good  name.  I  can  ask 
nothing  of  you;  I  want  nothing  of  you  but  that  you  grow  up  to  be 
a  useful  man.  Be  honest.  Never  despise  hard  work,  and  never 
forget  that  you  are  a  Jew.' 

"'Here,'  and  he  pointed  to  the  old  Jewish  burial  ground; 
'here  is  where  your  grandparents  rest,  and  here,  in  God's  good 
time,  am  I  to  rest.  These  men  and  women  were  Jews,  and  lived 
honest,  frugal,  industrious  lives.  That  is  alU  can  ask  of  you.  Now, 
good-bye,  my  son.     The  Lord  bless  you  and  keep  you.' 

"Then  he  turned  around  and  walked  back  to  town.  I  stood 
awhile  and  watched  him.  He  never  looked  back,  but  kept  on 
till  he  turned  around  the  comer  and  was  gone.  I  walked  onward 
awhile,  then  stopfied  and  looked  back.  I  could  see  a  cluster  of 
houses — that  was  Schwersenz.  Before  me  I  saw  the  tops  of  build- 
ings rising  above  the  wall  surrounding  Posen.  I  stood  midway 
between  Schwersenz  and  Posen.  Of  course,  I  was  young;  I  didn't 
know  what  it  meant.  But  I  felt  very  lonely  and  more  like  crying 
than    going    to    Posen. 

"Pretty  soon  1  started  to  walk  again,  walking  as  fast  as  I  could; 
and  then  I  stopp>ed  and  looked  back  again  for  the  last  time.  I 
could  see  no  more  of  Schwersenz.  I  was  alone  in  the  world.  A 
little  later  I  passed  through  the  gates  of  Posen  to  find  the  man  I 
was  to  work  for. 

57 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

"That's  how  I  left  Schwersenz.  I  went  back  there  once  to 
bid  my  parents  good-bye  when  I  started  for  Berlin.  After  that  I 
never  again  saw  my  parents  nor  Schwersenz." 


58 


CHAPTER   III. 
TRUMMER. 

The  Lustigs  were  the  only  Jewish  people  in  Canaway,  but 
by  no  means  were  they  lonesome.  On  the  contrary,  their  friends 
and   acquaintances  were   many. 

Ludwig  and  Gottlieb  had  many  playmates.  Every  boy  Hv- 
ing  on  Bristol  street  was  glad  to  come  and  play  with  them.  Boys 
in  country  towns  have  a  habit  of  wandering  about  from  street  to 
street  in  search  of  one  another,  but  Gottheb  and  Ludwdg  had  no 
need  to  do  this.  Instead,  their  playmates  always  came  to  their 
house  and  played  in  the  back  yard.  This  the  boys  liked  to  do 
because  there  were  many  dry  goods  boxes  kept  in  the  yard.  With 
these  boxes  the  boys  made  huts  and  forts  to  play  in;  here  they 
could  hammer,  saw  and  dig.  Indeed,  great  and  joyous  was  their 
sport. 

Mrs  Lustig,  too,  made  friends  with  her  neighbors.  Both 
Mrs.  Ashley  and  Mrs.  Mutchler  were  her  intimate  friends  and  with 
either  she  exchanged  pies  and  cakes  after  the  maimer  of  housewives. 
Whenever  Mrs.  Lustig  cooked  sweet-sour  fish,  a  hitherto  un- 
knowTi  delicacy  in  Canaway,  every  woman  on  Bristol  street  had  a 
sample  of  it  and  voiced  the  praise  of  the  giver's  ability  to  cook. 

And  Herman  Lustig  was  well  known  in  Canaway.  Along 
Canaway  Lake,  over  in  Cheshire,  through  Bristol  and  throughout 
the  Middlesex  Valley  every  farmer,  grape  grower,  stage  driver  and 
farmhand  knew  "Dutch  Herman"  (as  he  was  called  by  the  Ameri- 
cans), the  proprietor  of  the  Rochester  Clothing  Store. 

59 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

Lustig's  store  was,  in  fact,  the  headquarters  of  every  German 
farmer  in  the  vineyard  district  of  Canaway  Lake  and  Naples. 
Whenever  the  farmers  came  to  town  they  stepped  into  Lustig's, 
whether  to  make  a  purchase  or  not.  There  they  left  their  bundles 
and  sometimes  their  waves  and  babies  while  attending  to  matters 
that  called  them  elsewhere. 

Not  only  was  Lustig  their  clothing  merchant,  but  he  was  also 
their  amanuensis,  their  letter  writer,  their  lawyer,  their  banker. 
To  him  they  brought  their  immigrant  relatives  to  be  newly  clothed 
for  their  adventures  in  America.  From  him  the  townfolk  bought 
their  wedding  suits,  confirmation  suits  for  their  boys  and  girls,  and, 
alas,  after  the  maimer  of  all  things  human,  they  bought  the  clothes 
in  which  to  dress  their  beloved  dead. 

That  he  was  a  German  and  called  Germany  his  fatherland 
was  sufficient  to  make  him  a  countryman  to  all  his  German  com- 
patriots, albeit,  Posen  and  the  Rhinegegand  are  far  apart.  He 
would  tell  the  farmers  the  local  news,  forecast  the  weather,  inquire 
about  the  crops,  and,  if  necessary,  advise  in  matters  of  business. 

Popular  as  he  was  among  the  farmers,  he  was  equally  so  with 
the  townfolk  of  Canaway.  With  his  wife  he  attended  all  church 
fairs,  lodge  dances  and  masquerades.  Whenever  Father  English, 
the  pastor  of  St,  Mary's,  the  CathoHc  Church,  held  a  bazaar  for 
the  beneBt  of  the  parish,  Herman  Lustig  was  sure  to  open  it  or  to 
award  the  prizes.  Whenever  one  of  the  Protestant  churches  held 
a  chicken  or  turkey  or  oyster  supper  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lustig  were 
accorded  the  seat  of  honor  at  the  table,  which  is  at  the  right  hand  of 
the  pastor.  In  town  or  in  the  neighboring  country  villages  Lustig 
was  never  forgotten  whenever  something  unusual  happened,  such 
as  the  dedication  of  a  church  or  the  installation  of  a  new  minister. 
To  attend  these  events  he  often  had  to  ride  many  miles,  but  never- 
theless he  always  made  it  his  business  to  attend.  When  the  Lu- 
theran Church  was  dedicated  at  Bristol  Springs  Lustig  was  among 

60 


TRUMMER 

the  disdnguished  guests,  which  included  the  noted  German  divines 
of  Naples,  Bristol  Center  and  Cheshire. 

In  a  word,  Herman  Lustig  was  everybody's  friend  among  the 
farmers  of  Ontario  County  and  the  townfolk  of  Canaway. 

But  in  Canaway  there  was  an  inner  special  circle.  This  was 
recruited  from  among  the[German  population  of  the  village.  Every 
evening  in  summer  or  winter  the  select  few  came  to  Lustig's  store 
to  talk  over  politics,  religion  and  the  drift  of  events  in  the  old  country. 

They  were  a  merry  set  and  bantered  and  joked  one  another 
good  naturedly  until  they  were  weary.  Not  an  evening  of  the  week 
days  passed  without  a  visit  from  Gabriel  Sinlaf,  the  local  beer 
agent  for  the  Rochester  breweries;  Henry  Mutchler,  the  butcher; 
Jacob  Metzger,  the  harnessmaker;  Leopold  Linther,  the  upholsterer, 
or  Trummer,   the  shoemaker. 

These  men,  with  the  exception  of  Trummer,  were  only  Lustig's 
friends,  but  Trummer,  however,  was  also  the  friend  of  Gottlieb 
and  Ludwig. 

No  one  knew  Trummer  by  any  other  name.  He  had  none. 
To  each  and  to  all  he  was  just  simply  Trummer,  a  small,  slight 
undersized  man,  shy  and  reticent.  His  face  was  one  of  the  hatch- 
et sort  and  came  to  a  sharp  p>oint  at  the  end  of  his  chin.  He  wore 
a  mustache  which  was  never  trimmed,  and  during  the  winter 
months  he  grew  a  beard  that  was  likewise  neglected. 

Every  week  day  evening  at  about  the  same  hour  he  stepf)ed 
into  Lustig's  store,  lighted  his  black,  smoke-stained  clay  pip>e, 
read  a  German  newspaper  and  said  nothing.  Seldom,  and  then 
only  when  app>ealed  to  in  the  heat  of  a  controversy  would  he 
speak.  One  subject,  and  only  one,  forced  him  to  talk,  and  that  was 
when  the  nationality  of  his  country  was  in  question. 

On  that  subject  he  was  not  a  man  of  few  words,  but  an  orator 
defending  the  lost  cause  of  a  united  Poland. 

Lustig  had  known  him  many  years,  and  in  all  that  time  had 
61 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

never  heard  a  word  of  complaint  from  him.  All  the  information 
which  Trummer's  friends  obtained  concerning  his  career,  ances- 
try, education  and  ambitions  came  in  his  outburst  of  oratory. 

In  such  excited  moments  he  had  related  about  his  forefathers, 
who  were  nobles  driven  from  their  estates  by  the  allied  armies  of 
Germany,  Austria  and  Russia,  by  which  countries  Poland  was 
shared  as  if  it  were  a  piece  of  cake. 

"Oh,  my  country,  my  country!"  he  would  moan.  "I  have  no 
fatherland  now.  We  are  not  Germans,  we  are  Poles.  We  are 
not  Austrians  or  Russians,  we  are  Poles.  Some  good  day  God 
will   restore   our   fatherland.     Wait!" 

But  it  was  not  as  a  defender  of  a  lost  nationality  that  he  was 
especially  endeared  to  the  boys.  TTiey  were  attached  to  him  for 
very  good  reasons  from  a  boy's  point  of  view.  In  the  first  place, 
Trummer  was  the  only  shoemaker  in  Canaway  who  cut  a  square 
hole  in  the  heels  of  their  shoes  in  which  to  fit  the  knob  of  the  half- 
club  skate. 

And  then  again,  when  work  was  slack,  Trummer  would  tell 
the  boys  some  wonderful  stories,  not  only  about  his  own  exjjerience, 
but  also  about  what  he  had  either  read  or  heard. 

All  that  Gottlieb  and  Ludwig  knew  of  his  hfe  was  his  arrival 
in  Canaway,  and  that  they  never  forgot  because  they  witnessed 
it  themselves. 

One  afternoon  in  March  on  their  way  home  from  school,  they 
stepped  into  the  store  just  as  Pat  Doyle,  the  towTi  constable,  was 
leading  their  father  out.  The  town  constable  was  a  p>erson  to  fear, 
and  the  boys  were  at  the  point  of  crying  when  he  quieted  their 
apprehension  by  inviting  them  to  come  along  with  him  and  he 
would  show  them  something. 

There  they  found  Trummer.  It  seems  he  had  stopped  in 
Canaway  because  he  had  no  money  to  go  further,  and,  having 

62 


TRUMMER 

been  unable  to  make  himself  understood  to  the  officer,  he  was 
arrested,  and  Lustig  was  called  upon  to  act  as  interpreter. 

TTie  latter  spoke  to  him  in  German,  which  Trummer  under- 
stood p>erfecdy,  and  then  to  convince  the  stranger  that  he  was 
among  human  beings  Lustig  sp>oke  a  few  Polish  words  to  him. 
The  officer  being  satisfied  that  his  prisoner  was  a  harmless  fellowf 
released  him  forthwith.  Lustig  set  him  up  in  business;  that  is,  he 
furnished  rooms  and  gave  him  money  for  present  needs  and  for 
tools  and  materials. 

His  shop  was  over  Lustig's  store,  a  small  front  room  facing 
Main  street.  In  another  room  back  of  that  and  adjoining  it  he 
cooked  and  slept.  For  a  table  he  used  dry  goods  boxes,  and  for 
a  bed  an  old  second-hand  couch.  Here  he  lived  an  indrawn, 
solitary  life,  boarding  himself  and  repairing  shoes.  He  was  a 
stranger  in  a  strange  land,  and  had  only  one  friend,  Herman  Lustig. 
whose  attachment  for  him  was  due  to  the  fact  that  both  hailed  from 
the  Province  of  Posen. 

A  hall  opening  on  Main  street  led  up  to  Trummer's  shop* 
The  stairs  were  narrow  and  dirty.  At  one  side  of  the  doorway* 
nailed  against  the  building  was  a  board  sign  on  which  Lustig  had 
painted  with  what  artistic  skill  an  untrained  hand  could  evoke,  the 
outlines  of  a  boot  and  the  still  cruder  form  of  a  shoe.  Under  these 
craft  emblems  were  the  following  words: 

BOOTS  AND  SHOES  REPAIRED.    UP  STAIRS. 

Within  a  short  time  all  Canaway  knew  of  the  new  arrival,  and 
those  who  were  interested  enough  to  inquire  learned  that  the  new 
cobbler's  name  was  Trummer.  Little  more  than  this  nobody 
knew.  Where  he  had  hailed  from,  where  his  parents  lived,  if  he 
had  any;  what  his  plans  and  purposes  were,  who  his  noble  ances- 
tors might  be,  no  one,  not  even  Lustig,  knew.     Trummer  never 

63 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

enlightene<i  Lusdg  nor  his  circle  of  friends,  and  they,  to  return  the 
compliment,  never  asked  him. 

His  family  history  was  not  of  special  interest  to  the  boys. 
Whenever  they  had  any  shoes  to  repair  they  would  run  up  to  his 
shop,  being  glad  to  get  the  chance  to  put  him  in  an  amiable  mood. 

"Tell  us  a  story,  Mr.  Trummer,"  Ludwig  would  say,  as  he 
handed  him  his  shoes.  While  examining  them  critically  Trummer 
would  answer:  "I  do  not  know  any  stories."  Then,  setting  the 
shoes  aside,  he  would  continue  the  task  in  hand. 

"Yes,  you  do,"  the  boys  would  persist.  "You  once  told 
us  one." 

"I  am  too  busy  now.  Leave  me  alone.  I  am  fixing  a  pair 
of  boots  for  Sheriff  Boswell.  I  can't  tell  you  a  story  when  I  am  so 
busy."  They  would  both  urge  and  tease,  and  finally,  brushing 
the  scraps  of  leather  from  his  apron  he  would  yield  to  their  entreaties, 
but  on  one  condition:  They  must  not  ask  him  to  tell  them  another 
story. 

This,  of  course,  they  promised. 

"I  can't  stay  awake  all  night  like  King  Frederick,  telling  you 
stories." 

"Who  was  King  Frederick?"  both  asked  at  once. 

"Ach,  I  am  so  busy;  another  time.' 

'No,  now,  Tnmimer.     Please  tell  us." 

And  finding  a  comfortable  seat  on  a  box  they  were  ready  to 
listen. 

"Frederick  the  Great,"  so  Trummer  began,  "had  many  strange 
notions.  He  thought  himself  very  wise  and  always  made  friends 
with  the  learned  men.  One  day  he  heard  a  professor  lecture  on 
sleep.  TTiis  professor  said  men  waste  all  their  lives  in  sleeping. 
Tliey  sleep  at  night;  they  sleep  during  the  day,  and  they  would 
sleep  all  day  were  it  not  necessary  to  earn  a  hving.  Sleep  is  a  fool- 
ishness.    Men  ought  to  invent  a  medicine  to  prevent  sleep.     Child- 

64 


TRUMMER 

ren  and  babies  and  old  people  can  afford  to  sleep,  but  not  kings. 

"This  pleased  Great  Frederick.  He  thought  he  would  find 
a  way  to  prevent  sleep  and  show  the  professor  how  to  do  it. 

"So  that  night  when  everybody  was  ready  to  go  to  bed  he 
had  his  coachman  saddle  his  swift  horse,  and,  putting  on  old 
clothes  to  disguise  himself,  so  that  none  of  his  subjects  could  re- 
cognize him,  he  set  out  alone  on  the  highway.  Everybody  was 
asleep.  It  was  so  still  one  could  hear  the  horse  as  he  galloped 
along  the  road. 

"When  he  had  been  on  his  way  a  few  hours  he  met  some  men 
returning  from  a  wedding  feast.  TTiey  had  been  drinking  more 
wine  than  was  good  for  them,  and  so  were  very  noisy,  singing  and 
shouting  as  loud  as  they  could. 

"'See  here,'  said  the  king  as  he  rode  up  to  them,  'you  are  mak- 
ing too  much  noise.  With  your  singing  you  will  disturb  the  good 
people  who   are  asleep.' 

"'No  one  hears  us,  brother,'  they  said,  not  knowing  the  stranger 
on  horseback  was  the  king.  'Supp>ose  some  one  does  hear  us, 
they  will  know  that  we  are  returning  from  a  wedding  feast.  If 
they  have  been  invited  they  will  join  our  chorus.  If  they  have  not 
been  they  will  tell  us  to  go  on.  But  what's  the  use  of  sleeping? 
Sleep  is  good  for  babies  and  old  women.  We  don't  believe  in 
sleep.     While  we  live,  we  live.     When  we  are  dead,  let  us  sleep.* 

"Tliis  pleased  the  king  very  much.  'I  perceive,  he  said,  that 
you  are  wise  men.     I  do  not  myself  believe  in  sleep.' 

"He  wished  to  compliment  them,  but  they  were  afraid  of  him 
now.  'Don't  you  know,'  the  spokesman  said,  'that  the  king  does 
not  like  to  have  men  on  the  highway  late  at  night?  Who  are  you, 
brother?' 

"'I  am  a  merchant  on  my  way  to  Dresden.  But  tell  me, 
brothers,  what  think  you  of  our  king?  Is  he  not  a  wise  man?' 

"'What  have  you  to  do  with  the  king?  Tell  him  that  you  are 
65 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

on  your  way  to  Dresden  where  they  make  china  dolls  as  strong  as 
soldiers  and  he  will  decorate  you.' 

"The  king  galloped  off,  laughing  at  what  he  heard. 

"All  that  night  he  rode  around  the  country,  and  early  the  next 
morning  retumed  to  his  palace  and  began  his  day's  work. 

"On  the  following  night  he  rode  out  again,  going  in  another 
direction.  But  he  did  not  feel  as  lively  as  he  had  on  the  night 
before.  He  was  so  tired  that  his  bones  ached.  Even  a  king's 
bones  sometimes  ache,  you  see;  and  besides  he  felt  dizzy.  But 
spurring  his  horse  he  rode  faster,  and  gradually,  unknowTi  to  him- 
self, he  fell  into  a  doze  and  finally  fell  asleep." 

"On   horseback?"   Ludwig   interrupted. 

"On  horseback,"  Trummer  rep)eated  soberly.  "That's  true. 
Soldiers  have  been  found  standing  guard  fast  asleep.  Men  have 
fallen  asleep  marching.  Men  have  fallen  asleep  on  horseback — 
that's  true,"  he  remarked  emphatically. 

"And  so  it  was  with  King  Frederick.  He  was  fast  asleep  on 
his  horse. 

"Now,  a  horse,  when  no  one  guides  it,  goes  anywhere,  and  at 
night  follows  the  road  till  it  comes  to  a  bam.  And  the  king's 
horse  jogged  on  till  it  came  to  an  open  barn  door  and  then  in  it 
walked  and  stood  in  an  empty  stall.  TTie  horse  and  rider  remained 
there  till  the  farmer  came  to  the  bam  early  the  next  morning." 

"What  did  the  farmer  see?"  Gottlieb  anxiously  asked. 

"He  found  a  strange  horse  in  the  stall  and  a  man  astride  on 
the  strange  horse.  When  the  farmer  saw  this  he  ran  out,  yelling  to 
arouse  his  neighbors. 

"'The  Evil  One  is  in  my  bam,'  he  shouted,  "the  Evil  One. 
Half  man,  half  horse.' 

"The  farmers,  hearing  his  frantic  cries,  came  rushing  to  his 
aid.  Some  brought  guns,  others  lances,  and  all  had  stones  or 
sticks  in  their  hands. 

66 


TRUMMER 

"When  they  arrived  at  the  barn  the  bravest  one  walked  in  to 
see  what  kind  of  a  creature  the  Evil  One  was. 

"He  walked  in  slowly.  Every  one  stood  ready  to  commence 
an  assault  on  the  Evil  One  should  he  suddenly  rush  out.  But  he 
didn't  rush  out.  Instead,  out  came  the  farmer  laughing.  'Why, 
he  said  'it's  a  man  asleep  on  horseback.  An  elegant  gentlemen, 
too,  who  has  lost  his  way.' 

"But  the  other  farmers,  those  who  stood  outside,  filled  with 
fear,  would  not  believe  their  neighbor.  'No,  no.'  they  shouted. 
'It  is  a  devil  come  to  destroy  us  for  our  sins.  Send  for  the  pastor 
to  absolve  us,  lest  we  die.' 

"'Come,  come,'  said  a  wise  farmer;  'let  us  deal  sensibly.  If 
it  be  a  man  asleep  on  horseback,  as  our  good  neighbor  claims* 
he  will  wake.  If  it  be  the  Evil  One,  let  us  bind  him  with  ropes  and 
take  him  to  the  king  for  a  gift.' 

"Thereupon,  they  all  began  to  shout  and  make  a  loud  noise. 
The  horse  took  fright  at  this  and  shook  the  king  off  his  back. 

"The  king  fell  to  the  floor  of  the  stall  in  a  heap.  All  gathered 
about  him  suspiciously  to  see  what  sort  of  a  creature  he  was.  They 
poked  him,  shook  him,  and  shouted  in  his  ears.     Finally  he  awoke- 

"'What  is  this?  I  am  the  king!     Who  dare  disturb  my  sleep?" 

"The  king!  Our  King  Frederick!'  they  yelled  in  derision. 
The  fellow's  crazy.  Tie  him  up  and  take  him  to  the  village 
pastor.  Some  evil  spirit  has  possessed  him.  The  king  does  not 
sleep  in  bams.' 

"'Here,  you  farmers;  do  you  not  know  your  own  King  Frede- 
rick?' 

'You  take  his  name  in  vain,'  angrily  they  shouted  back. 

"'I  am  the  king.  Come  wth  me  to  my  palace,  and  I  will  give 
each  a  gold  piece  and  a  medal.  TTien,  indeed,  will  you  know 
that  I  am  king!' 

"By  this  time  the  village  pastor  arrived,  and  to  him  the  king 
67 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

was  compelled  to  explain  his  adventures — how,  trying  to  overcome 
sleep  he  had  ridden  two  nights  without  closing  his  eyes,  and, 
finally,  exhausted  by  the  effort,  had  fallen  asleep  while  on  his  horse. 

"'Oh,'  the  pastor  moaned,  'I  have  found  how  the  king  tries 
to  put  God  aside.  Now  I  am  sure  the  king  is  tempting  the 
Almighty.' 

"'TTiis  is  no  place  to  deliver  a  sermon,'  the  king  exclaimed  in 
anger.     'Come  to  my  palace  and  hold  forth  to  your  heart's  content.' 

"So  the  king  was  comp>elled  to  ride  back  to  his  great  palace 
in  Berlin  with  the  farmers  and  the  village  pastor.  When  the 
party  reached  the  palace  they  were  met  by  all  the  soldiers  and 
servants,  who  bowed  before  his  Majesty;  and  then  it  was  that  the 
country  folks  realized  that  it  was  the  king  whom  they  had  found  in 
the  bam.  An  ap>ology  they  humbly  offered  for  their  harsh  words 
and  for  the  ill-treatment  they  had  given  the  king,  and  begged  him 
to  sp>are  their  lives,  as  they  were  innocent  of  any  intent  to  do  wrong. 

"The  king  was  wise.  He  gave  each  a  gold  piece,  as  he  had 
promised;  also  a  medal  and  a  bottle  of  French  wine.  He  sent 
them  home,  happy  and  astonished. 

"But  you  can  bet  he  never  tried  the  trick  again." 

With  this  brief  comment,  Trummer  picked  up  the  shoe  he  had 
been  repairing  and  dismissed  the  boys  with  the  warning  never  to 
bother  him  again. 

Hurrying  down  stairs  they  ran  into  their  father's  store  and  told 
him  briefly  but  with  much  joy  the  wonderful  tale  which  Trummer 
related. 

"Ah,  yes,"  Lustig  would  say,  "Trummer  knows  many  stories. 
He  is  educated." 

Acting  on  this  hint,  the  boys  entreated  the  cobbler  for  a  story 
whenever  they  had  the  chance — whether  on  the  street  or  in  their 
father's  store. 

"I  do  not  know  any  more  stories,"  Tnmimer  would  say,  slyly, 
68 


TRUMMER 

re-lighting  his  pipe  or  turning  to  his  paper,  if  he  had  happened  to 
be  in  his  store. 

"Yes,  you  do,"  the  boys  persisted.     "You  told  us  one." 

"Some  day,"  he  mumbled  over  the  edge  of  his  newspaper. 
But  that  day  was  far  off. 

Spring  came,  and  then  summer.  TTiere  were  circuses  in  town* 
a  fireman's  f>arade,  the  county  fair,  the  aimual  Methodist  camp- 
meeting,  and  finally  Tlianksgiving,  and  the  first  heavy  snow  of  the 
winter.  The  ice  was  now  thickening  on  the  creeks  and  the  boys 
were  beginning  to  skate. 

With  pairs  of  heavy  winter  shoes  in  their  hands,  the  boys 
trudged  into  Trummer's  shop  to  have  the  hole  cut  in  the  heel  for  the 
skate,  and  then  with  all  the  frankness  of  boys  who  insist  on  their 
rights,  they  demanded  of  Trummer  to  tell  them  another  story. 

"Ach,  I  don't  know  any  stories,"  he  snapped,  picking  up  the 
shoes  they  brought  him.  Now  leave  me  alone.  I  must  finish 
this  job," 

"You  know  lots  of  stories, "Gottlieb  insisted.     "Just  tell  us  one." 

He  stared  sharply  at  them.  "If  you  never  bother  me  again, 
I  will  recite  you  a  piece  I  once  learned  in  a  gymnasium." 

"Oh,  we  recite  pieces,  Trummer,"  the  boys  said,  familiarly, 
"every  Friday  in  school." 

"In  my  country,  the  gymnasium  is  a  school  for  boys." 

They  seated  themselves  on  a  roll  of  leather  and  prepared  to 
listen.  To  their  utter  astonishment,  Trummer  arose,  untied  his 
soiled  apron-string  and  laid  it  aside,  unrolled  his  shirt  sleeves, 
buttoned  the  cuffs  and  put  on  his  coat. 

"A  man  must  dress  properly  when  he  recites,"  he  told  the  boys, 
by  the  way  of  an  explanation.  "This  is  a  ballad  about  a  Jewish 
p)oet.  Let  me  explain.  In  olden  times  f)oet8  would  travel  from 
place  to  place,  reciting  their  poems  and  singing  the  songs  they  com- 
posed.   Once  a  year  they  would  hold  a  sort  of  a  fair,  as  we  do 

69 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

here  in  Canaway,  and  each  one  would  sing  a  song,  or  recite  a  piece, 
as  you  do  in  school.  He  who  had  the  prettiest  song,  or  the  finest 
poem,  received  a  wreath  of  flowers.  Tliis  Jewish  poet  was  named 
Susskind,  and  he  lived  in  a  town  called  Trimberg  in  Bavaria. 
Listen!  I  will  now  give  you  the  ballad  of  Susskind  of  Trimberg. 
Straightening  himself  up,  Trummer  recited  with  gusto  this  ballad: 

THE  TROUBADOUR  JEW. 

Now  into  the  high  hall  the  proud  p>oets  troop, 

From  the  tiled  palace  court  in  old  Trimberg,  the  town. 
And  with  light,  gallant  mien  the  courtiers  stoop 

In  their  bows  to  the  dames,  all  of  fairest  renown. 
And  the  flicker  of  gaiety  brightens  the  room. 

For  it  gleams  like  their  jewels  and  silken  brocade; 
While  the  clanking  of  swords  and  of  stirrups  consume 

Half  the  love-doting  sallies  of  matron  and  maid. 

This  is  an  occasion  when  rhymers  appear 

To  vie  in  a  tourney  of  ballad  and  song. 
And  the  revelry  hushes — the  Judges  are  here — 

Till  the  stillness  of  evening  broods  over  the  throng. 
For  each  bard,  in  his  place,  is  awaiting  his  cue. 

To  arouse  the  applause  of  the  court  and  its  train. 
And  he  hums  in  his  heart  just  a  stanza  or  two 

Of  the  rhymes  he  had  wrought  at  the  beck  of  his  TTiane. 

First  they  called  on  the  bard  whose  sweet  minne-songs  led. 

Many  sore-footed  pilgrims  in  quest  of  the  grail. 
And  he  rises  with  honor,  a  crown  on  his  head. 

And  sings  well  of  castle's  defense  and  assail. 
Then  to  love-winning  eyes  of  his  lady  he  turns. 

And  reverts  to  a  kriight  who  had  led  every  quest 
In  the  siege  of  her  heart;  for  whose  conquest  he  yearns, 

As  a  monk  yearns  in  prayer  for  the  joys  of  the  blest. 

70 


THE  TROUBADOUR.  JEW 

My  ,ong   „   of  larf.    that    .houU  glaJJtn    all  times,    and  that   lo 
of  th,  law  of  my   „re,- 


thf   hooh 


TRUMMER 

He  ceased,  and  the  plaudits  arose  to  the  roof, 

And  around  the  vast  hall  rolled  his  praise  and  his  name; 
Lifted  up  in  his  pride,  from  the  fellows  aloof, 

He  gives  them  a  challenge  to  mount  to  his  fame. 
Almost  heavy  of  heart,  then  the  next  poet  sings 

The  song  he  has  woven  to  dazzle  the  court, 
Tho'  deftly  he  wakens  the  musical  strings. 

Till  his  harp  and  his  voice  in  one  rapture  disport. 


E^ch  poet  wins  favor,  delightfully   heard; 

All  the  knights  and  ladies  are  brave  in  their  praise 
Of  the  favorite  tune,  or  the  apt  chosen  word. 

In  the  rollicking  troubadour's  spirited  lays. 
But  now  one  unhearlded  bard  is  e^ied. 

Lately  shunned  with  a  growl  by  the  insolent  crew. 
And,  stung  by  his  daring  in  crossing  their  pride, 

TTiey  hotly  demanded:     "What  ho!  hear  the  Jew!" 


Full  proudly  he  arose  when  he  thus  was  proclaimed. 
Good  Susskind  of  Trimberg,  the  troubadour  Jew; 

Standing  calmly  before  them,  unknown,  unashamed. 
He  would  lilt  their  disdain  as  the  sun  lifts  the  dew. 

But  becalmed  and  at  gaze,  like  a  couchant  wild  beast. 
Ere  it  lept  unaware  on  its  innocent  prey. 

And  inwardly  chafed  that  he  came  to  their  feast — 

Angry  and  silent  and  scornful  were  they. 


"My  song  is  of  love,  that  should  gladden  all  times. 

And  that  love  is  the  book  of  the  law  of  my  sires. 
We  have  wandered  with  this  through  the  seasons  and  climes. 

Long  ago  by  the  Rhine  we  enkindled  our  (ires. 
We  were  here  when  the  eagles  of  Rome  were  elate; 

We  encamped  amid  desolate  ruins  and  mounds. 
So  of  Trimberg  I  sing,  and  the  woods  of  the  state. 

Of  Bavaria  loved,  and  what  in  it  abounds. 

71 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

"Before  German  was,  then  my  fathers  were  here, 

And  they  sang  of  a  jjeace  that  was  sweeter  than  wine. 
With  the  harp  that  was  David's,  and  not  with  the  sp)ear, 

TTiey  greeted  the  vales  of  the  Saale  and  the  Rhine. 
Oh,  this  land  is  my  country,  these  forests  my  home! 

Here  my  altars  of  praise  and  of  household  were  set. 
Overflowing  with  love  of  my  towTismen,  I  come, 

Aad  I  offer  a  friendship  that  none  shall  regret. 


"Give  me  heed  now,  ye  bards;  for  like  Walter  I  sing. 

And  a  troubadour's  mate  is  a  good  man  and  just. 
All  the  children  of  men  are  controlled  by  one  King, 

And  He  fathers  the  living  and  those  in  the  dust. 
Your  songs  are  of  bloodshed,  and  bloodshed  is  death; 

Sing  ye  rather  the  rich  who  are  friends  to  the  f)oor. 
My  songs  are  of  peace,  and  have  balm  in  their  breath. 

That  should  soothe  afflictions  that  many  endure. 


"And  ye  who  exult  in  the  pride  of  your  sires, 
Ye  prize  not,  ye  heed  not,  the  greeting  I  bring. 

Ye  can  only  think  scorn  of  my  kindly  desires. 
And  would  silence  my  lays  when  my  heart  bids  me  sing. 

Made  a  stranger  and  outcast,  as  are  each  of  my  folk, 

■^  Is  there  aught  that  ye  know  for  which  I  can  atone? 

Must  the  woes  of  my  father  be  also  my  yoke 
As  I  pass  in  and  out  here,  scarce  noticed,  alone?" 

But  the  court,  in  its  festal  and  splendid  array. 

Was  devoid  of  reply,  though  touched  to  the  core; 
And,  seemingly  deaf  to  his  resonant  lay. 

They  saw  him  bow  low  and  pass  out  of  the  door. 
With  a  heart  that  was  sad,  he  strode  forth  from  the  gate 

Of  the  tovm  that  he  loved,  into  woodland  and  glen, 
This  minstrel  of  Judah,  elected  by  fate 

To  sing  a  new  song  to  the  children  of  men. 

72 


TRUMMER 

O  Susskind  of  Trimberg!     O  troubadour  Jew! 

TTie  harp  that  was  David's  was  held  in  thy  hand! 
And  the  words  thou  hast  chanted,  tho'  broken  and  few, 

Have  sustained  us  and  cheered  us  in  far  distant  lands. 
Praise  for  Susskind,  his  country  beloved  as  his  home, 

And  for  neighbors  and  kinsfolk — all  people  are  one. 
The  Father  who  formed  us,  to  all  does  he  come, 

And  His  blessing  abides  where  a  good  deed  is  done. 

T}ie  boys  were  scarcely  aware  he  had  finished  the  ballad, 
when  he  seated  himself  and,  holding  his  face  in  his  hands,  began 
to  moan. 

"Ah,  dear;  my  country,  my  country!"  Trummer  cried.  "I 
shall  never  see  my  country  again.  I  am  here  in  America.  God 
bless  America!" 

"Did  you  like  the  piece,  boys?"  he  asked,  brightening  and 
rising  from  his  bench.  "I  recited  that  once  at  home — many,  many 
years  ago." 

"When  we  are  big  we  will  speak  a  long  piece,"  Gottlieb 
assured  him. 

"That  is  right.     Now,  go  downstairs." 

They  rose  reluctantly  and  stood  by  the  door,  unwilling  to 
leave.  Trummer  took  off  his  coat,  put  on  his  apron,  rolled  up  his 
shirt  sleeves,  and  started  to  work.  "What  is  the  matter  now?"  he 
asked,  seeing  the  boys  still  standing  there.  "Another  story  again? 
Ach,  my!      Leave  me  alone  now.     1  must  earn  my  living." 

"We  didn't  say  'Thank  you,'  Trummer.  Mamma  says  we 
must  thank  you  whenever  you  tell  us  a  story." 

"Say  'Thank  you,  then,'  and  go." 

When  they  rushed  into  their  father's  store,  Lustig  wondered 
what  had  happened.     They  were  very  much  excited. 

"Papa,"  Ludwig  began,  "Trummer  recited  a  piece  about  a 
73 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

minstrel  man  who  lived  in  Germany,  and,  papa,  he  didn't  make 
one  mistake,  and  he  talked  just  like  a  teacher." 

"Ach!"  Lustig  answered,  "didn't  I  tell  you  Trummer  was 
educated?" 

Very  little  happened  thereafter  to  distinguish  Trummer  in 
their  eyes  until  he  bought  an  accordion.  TTiis-  odd  musical  in- 
strtmient  gave  him  so  much  amusement  that  Lustig  wondered  what 
charm  was  to  be  found  in  it.  Trummer  devoted  his  spare  time  to 
practicing.  Instead  of  spending  the  evening  hours  reading  his 
newspaper  in  Lustig's  store.he  remained  in  his  shop,  playing  odd 
tunes;  sometimes  airs  familiar  to  Lusitg  and  then  some  weird  things 
which  Lustig  told  his  German  friends  were  Polish  wedding-songs. 

Canaway  soon  became  acquainted  with  the  accordion.  Late 
at  night,  especially  on  moonlight  nights,  Trummer  would  march 
down  Main  street  towards  the  lake,  playing  the  accordion  as  he 
walked.  And  the  people  of  Canaway  who  lived  on  that  street, 
as  well  as  those  in  adjacent  streets,  hearing  the  soft  notes  floating 
out  on  the  still  air,  would  say:  "There  goes  Trummer,"  and  forget  to 
talk  about  the  music. 

The  accordion,  however,  was  the  beginning  of  the  end  of  his 
stay  in  Canaway.  He  came  less  and  less  to  Lustig's  store;  and 
sometimes  for  weeks  no  one  would  see  him  except  on  moonlight 
nights  when  he  walked  dowTi  the  street  towards  the  lake.  But 
one  evening  this  route  was  changed.  It  was  now  the  latter  part  of 
August.  Tlie  evenings  were  growing  longer.  At  nightfall,  while 
the  main  street  was  still  illuminated  by  the  lights  in  the  store  win- 
dows, Trummer  commenced  to  play  as  he  reached  the  dwelling 
houses  on  Main  street.  Some  people  who  were  sitting  on  their 
front  f>orches  stopped  their  talk  to  listen.  Some  sweet,  soft  air 
fell  from  the  instrument,  which  Trummer  did  not  vary,  but  played 
again  and  again.    To  the  lake  he  walked,  then  back,  and  com- 

74 


TRUMMER 

plelely  around  the  town.  AH  around  the  outskirts  of  Canaway  he 
walked,  playing  the  tune,  and  where  he  went  after  that  nobody 
knows  to  this  day. 


75 


CHAPTER  IV. 
A    RURAL    PURIM. 

It  was  a  father's  natural  desire  to  please  his  sons  that  led  Her- 
man Lustig  to  relate  so  many  captivating  tales  of  his  birthplacei 
Schwersenz.  He  had  no  better  means  of  entertaining  them  than 
to  describe  some  peculiar  person;  or  to  relate  an  incident  that  hap- 
pened in  his  boyhood,  and  the  sons  were  always  well  pleased.  So 
frequently  had  he  referred  to  this  hamlet  in  eastern  Prussia,  and  so 
many  incidents  seemed  to  have  occured  there,  that  the  boys  regarded 
it  as  a  place  enchanted,  or  one  created  for  the  sole  purpose  of  afford- 
ing p>eople  opportunities  to  do  many  odd  and  laughable  things. 

Their  own  town,  Canaway,  in  western  New  York,  was  less 
romantic.  In  Canaway  there  was  no  street,  as  there  was  in  Sch- 
wersenz, where  the  geese  walked  barefoot.  There  was  not  in 
Canaway  a  local  "hobo"  like  Schayah,  who  presented  himself  at 
the  rear  door  of  wealthy  residences  schnorring  (begging)  p>ennies 
to  buy  his  Sabbath  noodle-soup.  And  then,  what  boy  in  Canaway 
dared  to  play  so  many  exciting  pranks  as  their  own  father  had  done 
in  the  Fatherland?  Where  were  the  boys  to  pull  feathers  from  a 
bed-tick  and  feed  them  to  the  burgomeister's  goat?  TTiere  was 
no  burgomeister  (mayor)  in  Canaway,  and  had  there  been,  no  one 
would  have  been  brave  enough  to  give  his  goat  anything  less 
nutritious  than  newspapers  or  tin  cans. 

But  in  Schwersenz  all  these  things  were  p>ossible.  At  an 
early  age  boys  began  their  pranks,  and  Lustig  himself  confessed 
that  he  celebrated  his  learning  to  walk  by  slipping  from  his  mother's 
arms  to  play  tick-tack  on  the  front  window  of  the  Schammes'  house. 

76 


A  RURAL  PURIM 

But  there  was  no  Schammes  in  Canavvay,  and  the  most  fun  the 
village  youngsters  had  was  on  circus  day  and  the  Fourth   of  July. 

In  Schwersenz  every  day  was  a  holiday — at  least  that  was 
the  impression  Lustig  gave  his  sons. 

With  a  flourish  of  imagination  he  adorned  every  tale.  Every 
hapf>ening  in  Canaway  reminded  him  of  something  in  his  native 
town.  A  runaway  recalled  a  similar  accident,  in  which  some 
intimate  friend  lost  either  a  basket  of  Pesach  (Passover)  eggs,  or  a 
corn-fed  goose.  An  Irish  wedding  recalled  a  Polish  nuptial  in 
which  Leiser  Lesser,  the  famous  funmaker  and  the  fiddler  of  the 
place,  played  the  dance  music  and  cracked  the  jokes.  Litde  hap- 
pened in  this  western  New  York  town,  no  matter  what  it  was, 
that  had  not  already  occured  in  Schwersenz. 

Gotdieb  and  Ludwig  enjoyed  these  tales.  Of  all  the  favors 
they  received,  they  appreciated  most  a  story,  and  they  frequently 
urged  their  father  to  tell  them  one.  On  a  rainy  Sunday  afternoon, 
Lustig  would  accordingly  relate  some  exf>erience,  enlarging  or 
adorning  it,  as  occasion  required.  But  on  the  eve  of  every  Jewish 
holiday  the  boys  were  certain  to  hear  from  their  father  some  lively 
narrative  connected  with  the  festival,  and  they  would  learn  how 
their  parents  celebrated  the  holiday  in  the  old  country. 

On  such  evenings  Lustig  would  remain  at  home,  instead  of 
going  to  his  store,  as  country  mechants  are  in  the  habit  of  doing, 
and  he  would  amuse  his  boys  by  describing  the  religious  service 
in  his  parent's  home,  or  in  the  synagogue.  On  such  occasions  he 
was  always  in  a  merry  mood.  In  that  happy  frame  of  mind  he 
entered  at  the  front  door  one  pleasant  evening  in  March,  and  called 
his  boys,  who  instantly  troop>ed  to  his  side,  and  giving  a  hearty 
greeting  to  his  wife,  who  was  preparing  supper,  he  said: 

"Boys,  tonight  is  Purim." 

"What   is    Purim?"     asked    Ludvkdg. 
77 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

"Don't  you  remember  the  story  of  Queen  Elsther  and  the  villain, 
Haman?"     he  asked,  with  feigned  amazement. 

"Tliat's  the  time  the  Persians  wanted  to  kill  all  the  Jews,  and 
Elsther,  the  queen,  saved  them.  Boys,  have  you  forgotten  the 
story?" 

Tell  us  abut  Schwersenz,"  Gottlieb  interrupted,  not  a  whit 
interested  in  the  Purim  story, 

Lustig  laughed.     "So  Schwersenz  is  funnier  than  Purim!" 

"Yes,"  exclaimed  Ludwig.  "Tell  us  about  that  fellow  Scha- 
yahl" 

"Oh,  leave  him  alone,"  said  Lustig,  "when  the  poor  man  is 
saving  his  appetite  for  the  Purim  cakes." 

"What  did  he  do  on  Purim?"    Gottlieb  asked. 

"Oh,  that  was  the  time  Schayah  stayed  at  home,  picking  the 
raisins  out  of  his  cakes,"  Lustig  told  them,  seating  himself  at  the 
head  of  the  table.  "Purim  was  made  for  boys,  and  that  was  the 
time  we  had  our  fun." 

Tliey  gazed  at  him  expectantly. 

"Tell  us  what  you  did,"  they  begged. 

"Well,  we  boys  used  to  dress  up  and  go  masquerading  from 
house  to  house,  making  the  people  guess  our  names.  At  every 
place  we  went  they  gave  us  something.  We  used  to  go  to  the 
rich  ones  first.  They  always  gave  us  a  penny.  Tlien  we  went 
to  the  others,  and  they  would  hand  cakes  to  us,  just  like  those  that 
mamma  bakes — Purim  cakes,  with  raisins  and  almonds  in  them. 
I  never  ate  any  cake  that  tasted  so  sweet,  and  the  raisins-but  they 
have  no  such  raisins  these  days!" 

The  boys  listened  open-mouthed,  but  his  v^fe  understood 
well  enough  his  reference  to  the  poverty  of  Elast  Prussian  towns. 

"Did  you  do  anything?"  asked  GottHeb,  mysteriously,  un- 
moved by  his  father's  thoughtful  look. 

"Why,  we  sang  and  danced,"  Lustig  answered.  First  we 
78 


A  RURAL  PURIM 

knocked  on  the  front  door,  giving  it  such  a  bang  that  you  would 
think  we  were  trying  to  break  it.  To  whomever  came  to  the  door 
we  would  sing: 

"  'Come,  good  p>eople,  and  of>en  the  door! 

Open  it  wider  than  ever  before! 
Today  is  Purim,   tomorrow  it's  done; 

Give  us  a  gift,  and  away  we  run!'  " 

"Did  you  really  sing  that?"   the  boys  asked,  timidly. 

"Sing  it!"  echoed  their  father:  "we  shouted  it!  We  yelled  it 
so  loudly  that  all  the  house  heard  us,  and  ran  to  the  door.  In  we 
would  rush,  scatter  about  the  room,  and  everyone  there  would  try 
to   guess   who   we   were. 

"  'That's  Wolff  Lustig's  boy,'  one  would  say. 

"  'Nof>e!'  I  would  shout;  'it  isn't  Lustig's  son.    Guess  again.' 

"  'Then  Gabriel  Lesser,  the  glazier's  son.' 

"  'Nope!'    said    Adolph    Rich. 

"Then  they  said  I  was  Moishe  Hertz,  Mendel  Lesser,  Jacob 
Harris,  Moritz  Lazarus,  and  named  other  boys  of  the  town.  Of 
course,  we  wouldn't  tell,  and  the  more  they  guessed  the  louder  we 
sang: 

"  'Guess,   good  f>eople,   guess  again; 

Perhaps  you'll  name  us  if  you  can; 
Today  is  Purim,  tomorrow  it's  done; 

Give  us  a  gift,  and  away  we  run.'  " 

Gottlieb  and  Ludwig  were  so  absorbed  in  this  story,  and  Lud, 
wig  himself  was  so  animated,  that  the  victuals  cooled  on  their 
plates. 

"After  that,  what  would  you  do?"    asked  the  boys. 

"If  they  couldn't  guess,  we  would  join  hands  and  circle  about 
79 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

the  room,  kicking  and  jumping,  scaring  girls  by  sticking  out  our 
tongues  at  them.  Then  I  would  dance  a  jig.  'Aha!'  they  would 
say;  'that's  Wolff  Lustig's  son.  He's  the  only  mischief-maker  in 
Schwersenz  who  can  dance  like  that!' 

"I  would  laugh  and  tell  them  to  guess  again. 

"  'Oh,  that's  he.     I  know  his  voice,'  Rosalie  Lesser  would  say. 

"That's  mamma!"  both  boys  exclaimed  overwhelmed  by  the 
discovery  that,  once  up>on  a  time,  their  mother  was  a  girl. 

Husband  and  wife  exchanged  glances,  and  Lustig  added- 
"One  night,  boys,  we  went  Pruim-pranking,  and  the  towncrier — 
that's  the  night  watchman,  or  pohceman,  as  we  call  him  here — 
found  us.  'Hey!'  he  cried;  'what  are  you  boys  doing  at  this  hour 
of    the   night?'" 

"  'It's   Purim'!   we   cried. 

"  'Purim?'  he  shouted  back  to  us.  'Some  more  of  your 
Jewish  nonsense?' 

'Oh,  go  'long  with  you,'  we  answered  back,  and  ran  away. 
But  he  followed  us.     'Go  home!'  he  shouted;  'go  home!' 

"'Catch  us  going  home,'  we  yelled  back;  and  away  we  rushed 
to  the  River  Wartha." 

Lustig  paused  awhile.  It  was  evident  to  his  wife  that  he 
intended  to  relate  a  thrilling  story.  Bowing  her  head,  she  con- 
cealed her  smiles  behind  her  hand.     Then  Lustig  continued: 

"We  were  now  on  the  river  bank,  and  I  tell  you  it  was  cold; 
but  we  didn't  mind  that.  The  policeman  was  after  us.  If  we 
turned  back,  he  would  catch  us,  and  put  us  in  jail.  If  we  ran  any 
further  we  would  probably  fall  into  the  river.  What  were  we  to 
do? 

TTie  boys  waited  with  mouths  open. 

Suddenly  Jake  Harris  shouted.  'Here's  a  boat.  Let's  sail 
down  the  river!  We  didn't  say  another  word  but  jumped  into  the 
boat  and  pushed  off,  just  in  time.     The  policeman  stood  on  the 

80 


A  RURAL  PURIM 

shore,  calling  after  us:  "Is  this  some  more  of  your  Purim  nonsense?'" 

"We  didn't  mind  him.  Out  on  the  river  we  floated.  It  was 
a  dark  night,  and  we  began  to  be  afraid.  But  we  had  lots  of  fun 
sailing  away  from  the  place.  TTiere  were  a  few  nearby  lights, 
but  these  faded  away,  and  we  were  gliding  along  between  dark, 
empty  fields.  Now  and  then  a  dog  barked.  The  sound  was  like 
that  of  a  fog  horn.  None  of  us  spoke,  and  we  didn't  know  where 
we  were  going.  Some  said  we  would  sail  into  Posen;  others  that, 
if  we  stayed  in  the  boat  long  enough,  we  would  reach  America. 
But,  after  a  while,  one  of  us  saw  in  the  distance  a  little  light,  very 
near  the  bank,  just  as  if  I  took  a  candle  and  stuck  it  in  the  ground. 

"  'Let's  go  there,'  said  one  of  the  boys. 

"We  pushed  in  to  the  shore;  jumped  out  of  the  boat,  and  tried 
to  find  the  house.  We  couldn't.  But  there  was  the  light,  shining 
up  through  the  ground,  and  we  knew  some  one  must  be  near. 

"  'Let's  sing  our  Purim  song!'  I  said. 

"Well,  the  boys  were  so  scared  they  were  ready  to  do  anything, 
and  we  sang. 

"  'Come,  good  people,  open  the  door, 
Open  it  wider  than  ever  before. 
Today  is  Purim,  tomorrow  it's  done 
Give  us  a  gift  and  away  we  run!"  ' 

"Well,  sir,  we  shouted  it  louder  than  ever;  and,  just  as  we 
finished  I  never  saw  anything  like  it  in  my  life,  the  ground  seemed 
to  open,  and  a  man  stuck  his  head  out  of  a  big  hole. 

"  'Who  are  you?'  he  shouted  to  us. 

"  'Purim!  Purim!*  we  yelled  back,  half  scared  out  of  our  wits. 

"  'O,  ho,'  roared  the  fellow,  'you're  Schwersenz  boys  come  to 
serenade  us.     Welcome,  welcome!' 

"I  never  was  so  tickled  in  all  my  days.  We  went  down  a 
81 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

little  ladder  into  a  cave;  but  it  was  fitted  up  just  like  a  room,  with 
chairs,  table,  and  an  old-fashioned  stove.  When  they  saw  us, 
the  man  and  his  wife  began  to  laugh  and  clap  their  hands,  and 
the  old  fellow  roared. 

"  'O,  ho,  you're  Schwersenz  boys  come  to  serenade  us  on 
Purim.     What  can  you  do?' 

"I  tell  you,  they  were  pleased  to  see  us;  and,  just  as  we  started 
to  sing,  the  woman  said:  'Sing  one  of  your  Purim  songs,  boys. 
This  is  your  Jewish  Purim.  I  know  what  Jews  do.  I  used  to 
work  for  the  Goldschmit's  in  Posen.' 

"We  weren't  a  bit  afraid  now.  We  danced  and  sang,  and 
I  gave  my  jig,  and  the  man  took  a  turn.  He  whirled  us  around  the 
room,  sang  a  song  and  danced  so  hard  that  the  wooden  floor  began 
to  shake,  and  I  thought  the  roof  would  tumble  in  on  us.  He  could 
sing,  that  fellow  could,  and  this  is  his  song: 

"  'Hearken,  you  villagers,  to  this  tale: 
A  cow  once  stole  a  milkman's  pail; 
She  frightened  the  townsfolk  out  of  their  lives, 
By  selling  milk  to  the  townsmen's  wives.'  " 

"Here  Lustig  laughed  at  his  own  attempt  at  rhyme,  but  the 
boys,  impatient  for  the  rest  of  the  story,  cried  out:  'What  hap- 
pened then?' 

"Happened?"  Lustig  repeated  merrily.  "TTie  man  and  his 
wife  gave  us  some  of  the  good  things  they  had  in  the  pantry.  We 
had  doughnuts,  sunmier  sausage,  fried  meats,  and  everything  or 
that  sort.  We  took  all  they  gave  us,  but  were  afraid  to  eat.  We 
held  it  in  our  hands,  but  did  not  stir.  When  the  old  man  saw  that 
we  were  merely  holding  the  cakes,  he  said:  'Why  don't  you  boys 
eat?    You  never  tasted  anything  so  good.' 

"  'Dasn't,'  we  said,  not  caring  to  explain. 

82 


A  RURAL  PURIM 

"  'Do  you  Schwersenz  boys  come  here  at  midnight  and  refuse 
to  eat  my  Sunday  pastries?    Dasn't!  Dasn't!' 

"We  couldn't  say  another  word,  we  were  so  frightened,  and 
Mendel  Lesser  began  to  cry.  'Hey,  there,'  said  the  fellow,  roar- 
ing at  us: 

"  'What's  the  trouble  with  you,  crying  in  my  house?  Why 
don't  you  eat?* 

"  'Not  Kosher!'  we  yelled,  and  tumbled  out  of  the  house  as 
fast  as  we  could.' 

"It  took  Lustig  several  minutes  to  assure  the  boys  that  he  and 
his  companions  reached  home  in  safety;  crept  into  their  respective 
houses  unseen  and  unheard;  and  found  their  trundle-beds  in  the 
attics  and  were  soon  buried  in  deep  sleep. 

The  supper  finished,  Lustig  noticed  a  whispered  conference 
going  on  between  the  boys,  and,  finally,  persuaded  them  to  take 
him  into  their  confidence.  "We  want  to  celebrate  Purim,  too," 
they  said. 

"Oh,"  Lustig  returned  jovially,  "one  must  live  among  Jewish 
people  to  play  a  Purim  prank.  We  are  the  only  Jewish  p>eople 
in  Canaway.  Where  can  you  go?  No  one  would  understand 
what  you  meant." 

"Mrs.  Ashley  would,"  they  said. 

Without  attempting  to  dissuade,  and  not  washing  to  disap- 
point them,  Lustig  began  to  plan  a  disguise,  and  prepare  them 
for  the  frolic. 

"Ludwig,"  he  called  merrily,  "put  on  my  old  fireman's  suit; 
and  Gottlieb,  I  will  dress  you  up  in  one  of  mamma's  old-fashioned 
hoop  skirts.  Then  go  over  to  Mrs.  Ashley's,  knock  at  the  front 
door,  and  when  you  are  in  her  front  parlor,  sing  this  song: 

'  'Haman  fed  his  little  pigs  on  sassafrass  and  gingers. 
And  when  he  tried  to  catch  them  all. 
They  slip[>ed  right  through  his  fingers."  ' 

83 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

The  boys  were  soon  disguised,  and  then  left  the  house — 
father  and  mother  anxiously  awaiting  their  return,  both  wonder- 
ing as  to  what  the  result  of  the  adventure  would  be.  At  last  the 
lads  came  back,  both  of  them  munching  a  huge  slice  of  mince  pie; 
their  disguise  partly  revealed,  their  clothes  being  sadly  disarranged- 
Gottheb  had  become  disentangled  from  his  skirt,  and  Ludwig's 
coat  and  trousers,  miles  too  big,  had  been  removed.  The  hemlet 
alone  remained,  and  that  so  completely  covered  his  head,  that 
the  mince  pie,  rather  than  his  face,  was  visible. 

"Well,    what   hapf>ened?"      Lustig   demanded   impatiently. 

"Well,"  Ludwig  began,  closely  imitating  his  father's  manner* 
"we  went  to  Mrs.  Ashley's,  you  know,  to  the  front  door." 

"I  rang  the  bell,"  Gottlieb  interrupted. 

"Mrs.  Ashley  came  to  the  front  door  v^th  her  lamp,"  Ludwig 
continued. 

"  'Mercy  sakes,'  she  said,  'what's  this?'     Then  we  sang: 

"Today  is  Purim,  tomorrow  it's  done; 
Give  us  a  gift  and  away  we  run." 

"  'Bless  me,  it's  Ludwig  and  Gottlieb,'  she  said. 

"  'You  musn't  know  us,  Mrs.  Ashley,'  I  told  her.     It's  Purim. 

"  'O,  I  mustn't?"  she  answered,  'but  I  do  know  your  voices. 
What  makes  you  wear  those  funny  clothes  and  masks?' 

"  'It's  Purim,'  I  told  her.  We  must  come  into  the  parlour  and 
dance  for  you,  and  then  you  must  give  us  something.' 

"Well,  we  went  into  the  front  room,  TTiey  haven't  a  fire 
there  in  winter,  so  she  took  us  into  the  dining  room,  where  Mr. 
Ashley  was.  He  laughed  at  what  we  said,  and  made  us  dance 
lively.  I  never  danced  so  much.  Then  Mrs.  Ashley,  she  asked 
us  what  we  wanted,  and  we  told  her." 

"  'Purim,  you  say;  is  that  the  time  you  eat  your  Matzolh?' 
she  said. 

84 


A  RURAL  PURIM 

"  'No,  we  sing  and  dance,  and  then  you  give  us  something 
to  eat.' 

"  'I  havn't  anything  but  mince  pie?'  And  so  she  gave  us  a  big 
piece  of  mince  pie,  and  we  began  to  eat  it.  But  Mr.  Ashley  made 
us  take  off  our  masks  and  the  clothes  you  put  on,  so  we  wouldn't 
catch  cold  when  we  went  out." 

"Well,  boys,"  Lustig  cried  wdth  a  burst  of  laughter,  "did  you 
have  a  good  time?" 

The  boys  were  slow  to  confess.  Finally  Ludwig  said:  "No, 
we  didn't.  If  we  lived  in  Schwersenz,  we  would  have  a  better 
time — we  could  run  away  down  the  river  in  a  boat,  as  you  did." 


85 


CHAPTER  V. 
Elijah,  The  Prophet,  in  Canaway. 

At  some  time  or  another  something  unusual  was  sure  to  hapjien 
in  Canaway,  A  circus  next  summer,  or  a  fire  last  autiunn,  or  any 
similiar  event  was  sufficient  to  keep  the  townsfolk  gossiping. 

Herman  Lustig  was  no  exception.  He  often  told  his  boys 
to  expect  some  surprising  occurence.  They,  too,  like  all  good 
people  of  Canaway,  were  looking  ahead  or  looking  backward. 
Lustig  predicted  so  many  things  for  his  boys  and  assured  them  that 
within  the  ensuing  year  many  startHng  events  would  take  place 
in  Canaway;  that,  were  a  tenth  part  to  come  true,  the  boys  would 
be  on  the  way  to  become  either  millionaires  or  president  of  the 
United  States. 

This  was  characteristic  of  the  town.  And  it  was  quite  natural 
for  Lustig  to  promise  his  sons  a  party  or  a  merry  celebration  in  hon- 
or of.  an  approaching  Jewish  holiday.  When  the  ice  broke  up 
on  the  lake,  and  the  March  winds  blew  hot  and  cold  alternately, 
when  the  snow  and  ice  had  melted  and  spring  was  at  hand,  one 
might  have  overheard  Lustig  promising  his  boys  a  Seder  festival. 

It  would  be  a  rare  treat,  so  he  led  them  to  believe.  He  in- 
tended to  celebrate  it  in  somewhat  the  same  fashion  that  his  good 
father  had  in  the  old  Schwarsenzer  home.  And,  inasmuch  as  it 
was  something  to  look  forward  to,  the  boys  accepted  the  promise 
with  good  grace  and  waited. 

They  suspected,  however,  that  something  unusual  would 
take  place.  For  several  days  their  mother,  assisted  by  Mary 
O'Brien,  the  housemaid,  had  cleaned  and  scoured;  all  the  famihar 

86 


ELIJAH  THE  PROPHET 

broken-edged  dishes  were  removed  from  the  pantry;  new  oiled 
paper  Hned  the  closet  shelves;  the  flour  barrel  was  emptied;  and 
the  boys  made  a  bam  fire  in  the  back  yard  of  the  crumbs  from  the 
cake  box.  All  this  betokened  something  unusual;  and  their  spirits 
were  raised  to  a  high  pitch. 

At  the  end  of  a  long  house-cleaning  campaign,  Mrs.  Lustig 
concluded  that  her  domicile  was  thoroughly  renovated;  and,  one 
evening,  when  Herman  Lustig  returned  from  his  store,  he  called 
his  sons  to  his  side  and  announced  cheerfully: 

"Boys,  tonight  is  'Seder!'  " 

"Oh!  is  that  something  to  eat?"  asked  Ludwig. 

"It's  something  to  eat,"  Lustig  admitted  gayly;  "but  then,  it's 
the  way  we  eat  it  that  makes  'Seder.'" 

"Oh,  I  know!  It's  a  party,"  Gottlieb  suggested  enthusias- 
tically. 

"Well,  then  it  is  a  party,"  Lustig  conceded,  greatly  amused 
at  the  boys'  conjectures. 

"Can't  we  invite  somebody?"    Gottlieb  appealingly  asked. 

"I  will  do  that.  Wait,  and  you  will  hear  me  invite  Elijah, 
the  Prophet." 

Forestalling  their  inquiries,  he  added:  "I  wall  tell  you  about 
him.  He  is  a  funny  man;  and  we  musn't  talk  about  him  till  it's 
time  to  send  the  invitation.    Then  perhaps,  he  may  accept." 

"Oh,  I  don't  mean  that!"  Ludwig  explained.  "I  mean  some 
one  we  know." 

"I  might  have  invited  Father  Margoli,  eh,  boys?"  He  paused 
to  see  the  effect;  but  they  were  p>erplexed.  "Do  you  know,"  he 
added  frankly,  "I  think  the  priest  is  a  Jew." 

But  this  observation  did  not  impress  them.  They  listened 
attentively,  watching  his  alternating  grimaces,  and  then  Ludwig 
added: 

"Isn't     he     coming?" 

87 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

"Well,  I  don't  know,"  Lustig  added  dubiously.  "He  was 
in  the  store  this  afternoon  with  Father  ELnglish;  and  they  arranged 
to  rent  my  carpet  lott  until  St.  Mary's  is  rebuilt.  I  wanted  to  let 
them  have  it  free  of  charge,  but  they  insisted  on  paying  it.  'Tls 
better  to  be  goodiriends  with  everyone,  even  if  I  am  a  Jew,  and 
they  are  Catholics.  Be  good  friends  wdth  everyone,  boys,  and 
you'll  get  along  in  this  world.  No  one  in  Canaway  wanted  to 
rent  rooms  to  them,  so  they  came  to  me.  'Take  mine'  I  said,  and 
they  rented  them.     So  there  you  are." 

He  laughed,  but  the  boys  did  not  appreciate  the  significance 
of  a  Catholic  service  in  a  Jewish  merchant's  store. 

"Then  we  can  go  up  there?"  Ludwig  said  innocently. 

"That's  no  place  for  you." 

"Oh,  I  want  to  see  the  new  priest!" 

"Some  day,  when  you  come  to  the  store,  you  will  meet  him. 
He  comes  into  my  place  quite  often.  He's  a  nice  young  fellow, 
and  he  knows  many  things  about  the  Jewish  people;  because, 
whenever  I  mention  anything  about  our  religion,  he  appears  to 
know  all  about  it.  Why,  this  morning  when  he  came  with  Father 
English  he  asked  me: 

"Isn't  this  your  Pesach?"  just  hke  that. 

"Yes,  I  said.'  How  do  you  know?" 

"  'Studied  it,'  he  said.     And  do  you  give  Seder?'  " 

"How  do  you  know  anything  about  Seder?"  I  asked  him  again. 

"  'Studied  it,'  he  said,  just  like  that,  and  then  we  laughed. 

"Say,  Father,  how  do  you  know  so  much  about  the  Jews?" 
You  seem  to  know  more  about  them  than  you  do  about  the  Irish." 

"Well,  sir,  you  should  have  heard  them  laugh.  And  Father 
Ejiglish  said: 

'Why,  the  Jews  and  the  Irish  are  the  chosen  people!'  And 
then    we    all    laughed. 

"'Oh,  well,'  said  Father  Margoli,  'I  Uke  the  Jewish  people,' 
88 


ELIJAH  THE  PROPHET 

and  he  looked  me  in  the  eye,  as  if  he  wanted  to  say,  'I  am  a  Jew, 
don't  you  know  it?  Well,  sir,  I  thought  of  taking  him  aside  and 
questioning  him,  but  Father  EngHsh  was  there  and  I  couldn't.  So 
I  just  told  the  young  priest  I  was  going  to  give  a  Seder  tonight  and 
invited  him. 

"Even  then,  he  continued  to  ask  questions.  He  wanted  to 
know  whether  we  had  a  Hagadah  (that's  the  name  of  the  book 
from  which  the  service  is  read);  and  whether  my  youngest  son 
would  ask  why  this  night  was  distinguished  from  all  other  nights 
in  the  year. 

"How  do  you  know  about  that?  I  inquired.  Only  Jews 
know   these   things. 

"He  wanted  to  tell  me,  I  know  it.  I  saw  him  blush  and  drop 
his  eyes,  as  if  he  would  like  to  let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag.  But  Father 
Ejiglish  noticed  it  and  drew  away.     He  may  come,  anyhow." 

Ludwig  and  Gottlieb  appeared  to  be  interested  in  what  their 
father  was  telling  them;  but  when  their  mother  broke  in  and  said 
that  she  was  ready,  they  seated  themselves  at  the  table,  and,  over- 
come by  the  revealation  of  the  dishes  and  the  odd  arrangement  of 
the  plates,  forgot  all  about  the  priest. 

Aided  by  what  Httle  information  Lustig  obtained  in  the  sad 
years  he  attended  the  Schwersenz  Cheder  (Hebrew  school),  he 
explained  the  meaning  and  significance  of  the  Seder,  and  then 
retold  the  story  of  the  passing  of  the  children  of  Israel  from  the 
house  of  bondage  to  the  promised  land;  of  their  suffering  in  days 
of  old  and  their  yearning  for  freedom.  And  when  the  boys  wearied 
of  the  talk,  he  wakened  their  interest  by  explaining  the  purf>ose  of 
the  burnt  meat,  the  bitter  herbs,  the  sweetmeats,  and,  finally,  the 
unleavened  bread.  They  listened  attentively,  watched  the  dis- 
tribution of  the  various  p>ortions  of  food,  and  repeated  after  their 
father  the  blessing  over  the   wine.     Lustig  was  explaining  the 

89 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

symbols  and  usages  of  the  evening,  when  Ludwig  interrupted  him 
by  asking  when  that  furmy  man  would  come. 

"Yes,  papa,"  Gottlieb  echoed,  "tell  us  about  Elijah,  the  funny 
man  of  whom  you  spoke." 

"He  dosn't  come,  boys,  unless  he  is  invited.  Didn't  you  hear 
me  read;  'come  all  who  are  hungry  and  eat.  All  you  who  are 
thirsty,  come  in  and  drink.  This  year  we  are  all  in  bondage; 
next  year  we  are  free  men.  TTiis  year  we  are  here;  next  year — he 
paused,  lowered  his  head  and  seemed  puzzled — well,  next  year, 
boys,"  he  concluded,  "we  may  not  be  here!" 

TTiey  stared  at  him.  There  was  something  mysterious  about 
it  all. 

Lustig  foresaw  how  they  might  feel.  "You  know,  boys," 
he  explained,  "the  Jews  used  to  be  driven  from  country  to  country. 
No  one  wanted  to  make  friends  with  them.  You  don't  know 
what  that  means,  because  you  live  in  a  land  of  freedom.  But 
suppose  Mrs.  Ashley  were  to  come  over  here,  or  Henry  Mutschler 
the  butcher,  or  Pat  Meade  and  his  boys,  or  anyone  on  Bristol  street 
— sup|X)se  they  would  come  over  here  and  say,  'Get  out  of  here! 
You  are  Jews!  You  don't  belong  here!  Get  out,  or  we  will 
bum  your  house  and  steal  your  furniture  and  dishes!  This  is  not 
your  country.    You  don't  belong  here!" 

The    boys    looked    very    grave. 

"That's  what  hapf>ened  to  our  fathers  in  olden  times,"  Lustig 
continued.  "They  had  no  home.  They  were  driven  from  every 
town  they  settled  in.  Either  king  or  prince  or  priest  made  them  go; 
and  they  had  to  seek  homes  elsewhere. 

"Did  Elijah  go  along?"    Ludwig  asked  plaintively. 

"Wherever  they  went,"  Lustig  said,  "Elijah  followed  them. 
If  they  lost  their  way,  he  pointed  out  the  right  road.  When  they 
came  to  a  strange  city  and  were  unable  to  make  themselves  under- 

90 


ELIJAH  THE  PROPHET 

stood  he  taught   them  the  language  of  its  people.  Whenever  there 
was  any  danger  ahead,  he  warned  his  people  in  time." 

"What  was  his  business?"    Gottheb  asked. 

"Traveler,"  Lustig  answered.  "Just  a  traveler.  He  traveled 
all  over  the  world.  In  those  days  there  were  no  railroads;  so  men 
used  to  walk,  or  ride  on  horseback. 

"What  did  he  look  like?"    Ludwig  inquired. 

"Look  Hke?  Oh,  he  looked,"  Lustig  answered  "like  an  old 
man  with  a  great  big  white  beard  and  long  white  hair;  and  he  wore 
an  immense  overcoat.  Well,  sir,  whenever  he  was  on  the  high- 
way, that's  the  country  road,  and  he  saw  another  man  ahead,  he 
would  run  up  to  him  and  keep  him  company.  So,  one  day,  he 
met  a  man  on  the  highway  and  they  walked  together,  talking  about 
all  sorts  of  things.  They  stopped  for  dinner  at  a  farmer's  house. 
The  p>easants  were  poor,  but  they  treated  Elijah  and  his  friend  to  a 
good  dinner.  When  Elijah  and  his  friend  left,  EHjah  saw  the 
farmer's  only  cow  in  the  field  and  killed  it. 

"Elijah's  companion  was  indignant  at  this.  'What!'  he  cried 
at  him.  'These  poor  people  have  given  you  a  fine  dinner,  and  you 
return  their  kindness  by  killing  their  cow?' 

"'Don't  you  know,'  said  Elijah,  'who  I  am?  I  am  Elijah, 
the  Prophet.  I  knew  that  the  farmer's  v^fe  would  die.  So  I 
caused  the  cow  to  die  in  her  stead." 

"Could  he  do  that?"    the  boys  asked  increduously. 

"Oh,  yes!  He  was  a  great  man.  He  could  do  wonderful 
things.  One  day  he  met  another  traveler  on  the  road,  and  they 
wished  to  take  supper  at  a  rich  man's  house.  But  he  sent  them 
away;  and  they  had  to  sleep  in  the  fields  without  food  or  bed. 
In  the  morning  Elijah  noticed  that  a  part  of  the  man's  house  had 
tumbled  in,  and  he  immediately  went  and  fixed  it  up  without 
difficulty. 

91 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

"'What!'  said  his  friend.  'You  return  good  for  evil?  That 
man  drove  us  away  and  now  you  restore  the  wall  of  his  house?' 

"'Tut,  tut!'  said  Elijah,  laughing  at  the  man.  'You  don't  know 
who  I  am.  Under  the  wall  of  the  house  is  a  box  of  money,  and, 
if  that  man  had  rebuilt  his  own  wall,  he  would  have  found  the 
treasure.     So  I  rebuilt  it,  and  no  one  will  find  the  box  of  gold.'  " 

All  this  was  marvelous  in  the  lads'  eyes,  and  they  urged 
Lustig  to  continue. 

"Well,  sir,  Ellijah  was  good  to  the  poor.  If  he  met  a  man  on 
the  road  who  was  hungry,  he  gave  him  something  to  eat.  If  a 
working  man  came  to  him  and  told  him  he  had  injured  his  arm  or 
his  leg  and  was  unable  to  work,  Elijah  would  take  his  job  and  give 
him  the  wages.  And,  boys,  do  you  know  that  if  the  school  child- 
ren couldn't  get  their  'rithmetic  lesson,  and  they  called  on  Elijah 
to  help  them,  he  did  so  at  once,  and  they  could  pass  their  examina- 
tions." 

"Did  he  go  all  over?"    Gottlieb  asked. 

"Everywhere.  Whenever  people  were  in  trouble  he  came 
to  them  and  helped  them.  He  was  everybody's  friend.  Why, 
boys,  that  man  could  make  friends  with  a  clown  in  a  circus!  Do 
you   like   clowns,   boys?" 

"Yes!"  they  both  exclaimed  at  once. 

"So  did  Ehjah.  One  day  he  came  into  town  and  saw  a  clown 
giving  a  show  in  the  street.  In  those  days  they  used  to  have  their 
own  circus  in  the  streets  and  not  in  the  tents  like  Bamum's.  When 
Elijah  saw  the  clovm,  he  went  up  to  him,  shook  him  by  the  hand, 
and  slapf>ed  him  on  the  back  just  as  an  old  friend  might  do.  'I 
hke  you',  Elijah  said  to  the  clovm.  'You  make  people  laugh  so 
that  they  forget  their  troubles.  You  are  a  good  man.'  And  then 
he  told  the  clown  the  story  of  the  one-legged  goose. 

"Whats'  that?"    they  asked  in  a  chorus.  '    ' 

"Well,  once  upon  a  time  a  rich  mjin  gave  a  banquet,  and 
92 


ELIJAH  THE  PROPHET 

ordered  his  cook  to  roast  a  goose.  Ah,  boys,  roast  goose  is  fine! 
So  the  cook  killed  the  fattest  goose,  roasting  it  brown,  and  when  he 
drew  it  from  the  oven  it  smelt  so  appetizing  that  his  mouth  watered. 
He  broke  off  a  leg,  turned  the  goose  over  so  that  one  could  see  only 
the  other  leg,  and  at  dinner  placed  it  before  his  master,  who  was  to 
carve  it.  'See  here!'  said  the  master  to  his  cook,  after  he  had 
begun  the  carving,  'some  one  has  broken  a  leg  off  this  goose!' 
'Geese  have  only  one  leg,' said  the  servant,  shaking  in  his  boots. 
No  one  beheved  him.  But  that  same  afternoon,  while  he  was 
driving  the  company  to  their  homes,  they  passed  by  a  farmyard 
where  the  geese  were  standing  on  a  log  with  one  leg  under  their 
wing.  'See  there,'  said  the  servant,  didn't  I  tell  you  geese  have 
only  one  leg?' 

"Oh,  how  the  clown  laughed  when  Elijah  ended  the  story! 
You  could  have  heard  him  from  far  away.  So  whenever  there's 
a  party  in  a  Jewish  home,  they  invite  Elijah  just  to  tell  stories  and 
make  them  happy.  Everybody  keeps  an  empty  chair  and  plate 
for  Ehjah.  Of  course,  he  cant  go  everywhere  at  the  same  time, 
but  we  leave  an  empty  place  always  in  his  honor. 

"Would  he  come  here?"    Gottlieb  timidly  inquired. 

"He  might.  He's  traveled  all  over  the  world,  visiting  Jews  in 
every  clime.  And  wherever  he  goes  he  gives  something  to  the 
poor;  tells  some  of  his  funny  stories;  plays  with  Httle  boys  and  girls; 
sings  a  song,  dances  or  plays  marbles,  and  then  disappears.  Every- 
body looks  forward  to  his  visits,  and  everybody  invites  him." 

"You  haven't  invited  him  yet,"  Ludv^^g  broke  in. 

"TTiat's  so.  Let's  invite  him,  then.  Elijah!  Oh,  Mr. 
Elijah!"  Lustig  called  aloud,  Ludwig  and  Gottlieb  invite  you  to 
attend  their  Seder.  If  you're  in  town,  call  on  Lustigs  on  Bristol 
street." 

"Will  he  come?"   they  asked  skeptically. 

"I  will  call  again.     Elijah,  are  you  coming?" 
93 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

Tlie  sudden  ringing  of  the  door  bell  lent  a  moment's^awe  to 
the  merriment.  Lustig  stopp>ed,  'and  threw  a  frightened  look  at 
his  wife,  whose  cheeks  turned  as  pale  as  those  of  her  boys.  Ludwig 
and  Gottlieb's  hearts  throbbed,  and  they  prepared  for  a  miracle. 
When  Lustig  arose,  however,  they  dared  not  turn  their  heads  to  see 
what  sort  of  a  p>ersonage  their  father  would  usher  into  the  dining- 
room.  Crouching  in  their  chairs,  with  their  hearts  a-throb,  they 
waited,  fearful  of  their  father's  fate,  marveling  at  the  odd  coinci- 
dence, and  then  wondering,  despite  its  apparent  impossibility, 
whether  Elijah  would  really  visit  them. 

Their  father's  hearty  laughter,  ringing  cheerily  back  to  the 
silent  household,  relieved  them.  "This  isn't  Elijah,  boys,"  he 
said  as  he  brought  a  young  priest  into  the  dining-room.  "This  is 
Father  Margoh." 

TTie  priest  bowed  ceremoniously  to  Mrs.  Lustig,  and  smiled 
in  a  friendly  manner  at  the  boys,  who  stared  at  him,  more  disap- 
pointed than  they  could  say. 

The  priest  and  Lustig  fell  to  talking,  and  the  boys  attempted 
to  follow  their  conversation,  but  it  referred  to  things  beyond  their 
knowledge.  So  they  insp>ected  the  visitor,  noting  his  high-cut 
clerical  vest  and  the  smooth  lines  of  his  face.  But  the  far  away 
look  in  his  eyes  and  the  shadow  of  regret  and  sadness  encircUng 
his  deep-sunk  hollow  eyes,  made  no  impression  on  them. 

It  amused  them  to  see  with  what  ease  their  father  spoke  to 
him;  how  famiharly  he  addressed  him.  They  knew  he  was 
talking  about  the  Seder,  because  he  pointed  to  the  meat  and  matzoh 
and  reread  pages  from  the  Hagadah  at  the  priest's  request,  and 
finally  both,  to  their  utter  astonishment,  joined  in  singing  the  mo- 
notonous, but  tuneful  song  of  Hadgadyah. 

It  was  a  pleasant  feast.  The  boys  seemed  to  have  been  for- 
gotten, and  had  they  not  compelled  attention  by  resampling  por- 
tions of  the  edibles  and  requesting  their  father  to  fill  their  wine- 

94 


ELIJAH  THE  PROPHET 

glasses,  they  might  have  fallen  asleep  without  witnessing  the  most 
impressive  scene  of  their  young  lives. 

"You  see,  the  Jews,"  Lustig  was  saying,  "believe  in  making 
life  happy.  They  believe  in  having  a  good  time  in  a  prof)er  way; 
they  believe  that  life's  worth  living.  TTiey  like  family  life,  children, 
and  a  wife  who  can  make  good  matzohschalet." 

Mrs.  Lustig  appreciated  the  compliment  graciously. 

"That's  what  we  like.  We  beHeve  in  all  good  things  and  all 
good  people." 

The  priest  acknowledged  Lustig's  general  statement  with  a 
nod  of   approval. 

"That's  why  the  Jews  have  families — so  that  children  may 
learn  to  know  what  it  means  to  honor  their  parents,  that  they  may 
live  long  in  the  land." 

The  priest  dropped  his  head  and  murmured  a  low  assent. 

"We  always  stick  together.  Good  heavens!  Had  we  not 
stuck  together,  what  would  have  become  of  us?  Jews  wish  to 
help  one  another.  I  tell  you,  if  any  Jewish  boy  despised  his  fath- 
er-" 

"Impossible!"  interrupted  the  priest.     "Tliats'  rather  strong." 

Lustig  stared  at  him  open-eyed. 

"What's  the  matter,   Father?" 

"Nothing,    sir,    nothing.     Continue." 

"You  know  we  Jews  believe  in  freedom.  So  we  have  great 
sympathy  for  those  who  are  enslaved — people  who  cannot  do  as 
they  think  best,  who  must  sell  their  souls,  who  haven't  the  right  to 
be  men  and  women,  but  must  do  as  others  tell  them  to  do,  although 
the  others  don't  believe  it  themselves." 

"Who  told  you  so?"   asked  the  priest,  his  eyes  aflame. 

"Told?"  No  one  told  me!  Won't  you  have  another  glass 
of  wine.   Father?" 

Lustig  filled  his  own  glass,  and  exchanged  serious  glances 
95 


CANAWAY  AND  THELUSTIGS 

with  his  wife.  Tliey  saw  the  glass  tremble  in  the  young  priest's 
hand.     He  swallowed  the  contents  in  one  nervous  gulp. 

"You  see,  Father,  no  one  understands  the  Jews." 

"I  do — yes,  yes,  I  know  them!"    the  priest  exclaimed. 

"That's  true,  and  that  puzzles  me,"  Lustig  returned,  "I  believe 
you  know  more  about  the  Jews  than  I  do." 

"No,  no!  Father  Margoli  protested.  "I  have  only  studied 
them  superficially.  I  saw — the  little  my  father  would — but  con- 
tinue, Mr.  Lustig,  continue.  I  am  rather  excited.  Tliis  Seder 
festival — why,  it  reminds  me  of  so  many  things.  It  is  supposed  to 
be  the  origin — but  never  mind  me,  I  am  curious,  you  see;  rather 
unfit  for  company.    Continue." 

"I  think  Father,"  said  Lustig,  "almost  every  nation  must  hate 
the  Jew  because  they  believe  in  freedom.  Jews  hate  kings,  princes 
and  rulers.  They  want  f>eople  to  do  their  own  thinking,  and  rule 
themselves.  And  that's  what  every  sensible  American  wants.  I 
am  proud  of  being  a  Jew,  and  I  should  think  that  any  man  that  had 
Jewish  blood  in  his  veins — 

"Well,  what  of  him?"  interrupted  the  priest  in  a  hollow  voice. 
What   of   him?" 

"Why,"  Lustig  replied  blandly,  "I  should  think  he  would 
cherish  every  drop  of  Jewish  blood  he  had  in  his  veins,  and  call 
himself  the  most  fortunate  man  on  earth." 

"I  eim!  I  am!"  the  priest  exclaimed,  rising.  "I  am  that  fort- 
unate!" 

He  had  risen,  and  Lustig,  astonished  at  this  also  sprang  up 
from  his  chair. 

"For  God's  sake.  Father,  what's  the  matter  with  you?"  Lustig 
demanded.     What's  the  trouble?" 

TTie  priest  paused  a  second,  as  if  controlling  his  feelings  with 
an  effort;  his  brows  contracted  and  his  dark  eyes  flashed. 

"Oh,  sir,  you  don't  know!"  he  moaned.  "I  dare  not  tell.  I 
% 


ELIJAH  THE  PROPHET 

dare  not!  My  heart  is  broken.  I  do  not  know  what  to  say.  ! 
have  dwelt  in  two  worlds.  I  am  your  brother,  but,  odd  as  it  may 
seem,  I  cannot  reveal  what  I  know.  Some  day  I  may  be  able  to 
explain.     Elxcuse  me  now,  I  must  leave  you.    Good  night!" 

"That  was  not  Elijah,  boys,"  Lustig  lugubriously  informed 
them  when  the  priest  had  gone.  "No,  no!  Elijah  would  have 
told  us,  if  he  had  any  Jewish  blood  in  his  veins.  He  would  have 
boasted  of  it.  However,  this  much  is  plain.  Father  Margoli  is  a 
Jew." 

And  the  boys  believed  it,  too,  after  what  they  had  seen  and 
heard  on  that  memorable  Seder  eve. 


97 


CHAPTER    VI. 
CONHRMATION  DAY. 

What  greater  pleasure  can  boys  have  than  a  railroad  journey? 
So  thought  the  Lustig  boys,  and,  from  time  to  time,  their  desires 
were  gratified.  TTiere  were,  of  course,  many  ways  of  amusing 
one's  self  at  every  season  of  the  year  in  Canaway.  In  winter, 
skating  on  the  lake  and  sleigh-riding;  in  autumn,  nutting;  and  to 
hunt  sassafras  roots  and  slippery  elm  bark  in  spring,  was  rare  fun. 
During  the  long  vacation  days  of  July  and  August  what  couldn't 
one  do?  Berrying  and  hiding  from  the  gypsies  were  only  a  few 
of  the  amusements;  and,  of  these,  the  Lustig  boys  had  their  share. 
But  there  was,  none  the  less,  one  supreme  joy — a  trip  to  Rochester, 
the  great  city,  far,  far  away  from  Canaway. 

Whenever  Herman  Lustig  allowed  his  boys  to  accompany 
him,  both  Ludwig  and  Gottlieb  remained  awake  all  night;  for 
fear  they  might  miss  the  eight  forty-five  train.  Such  a  thing  would 
have  seemed  to  them  Hke  a  calamity.  So  many  wonderful  things 
were  to  be  seen  in  Rochester.  Such  as  street  cars  and  tall  buildings 
of  four  or  more  stories  in  height;  immense  show  v^ndows  exhib- 
iting iimumerable  articles  of  beauty  and  utility.  And  then  the 
people!  Where  did  so  many  come  from?  Never,  not  even  on 
circus  day,  was  half  as  great  a  number  on  Main  street  of  Canaway 
as  there  was  on  one  side  street  of  Rochester.  It  seemed  as  if  all  the 
men  and  women  in  the  world  Uved  in  Rochester,  and  walked  up 
and  down  Main  Street,  just  to  see  the  Lustigs  from  Canaway. 

Oh,  what  excitement  reigned  in  the  Lustig  household  on  the 
morning  of  the  journey!  With  what  care  their  Schabbus  clothes 

98 


CONHRMATION  DAY 

were  put  on;  what  a  sumptuous  breakfast  was  served,  and  then  a 
luncheon  had  to  be  put  up,  lest  the  boys  find  themselves  hungry  at 
the  end  of  the  hour's  travel.  After  hearing  for  the  hundredth 
time  the  many  entreaties  of  their  solicitous  mother  "not  to  go  too 
near  the  street  cars,  not  to  cross  the  streets  alone,  not  to  get  lost  and 
not  to  eat  too  many  peanuts,"  they  started  out.  How  proudly  they 
walked  down  Bristol  Street,  and  with  what  a  triumphant  air  they 
told  every  boy  they  met  that  they  were  going  to  the  City. 

Tliat  was  indeed  a  special  occasion.  Everything  app>eared 
to  be  arranged  for  them.  On  came  the  Elmira  Express,  steaming 
alongside  the  dep>ot  just  to  carry  them  to  Rochester.  Some  passen- 
gers alighted  and  some  boarded  the  train.  Charlie  Cluck,  the 
conductor,  called  louder  than  ever,  "All  aboard!"  when  he  saw  the 
Lustig  boys  were  going  on  the  train. 

Everybody  in  Canaway  heard  the  eight-forty-five  leave,  and 
every  one  knew  that  the  Lustig  boys  were  on  it.  Slowly  it  moved 
along  the  park  that  fronts  the  Canaway  House;  then  across  Main 
Street,  with  its  swift  panoramic  view  of  the  lower  Main  Street,  and 
its  glimpses  of  the  lake;  faster  now  around  the  bend  at  the  Town 
Hall;  past  the  graveyard,  the  meadows  and  McKecknie's  Brewery; 
on  faster  and  faster,  like  a  March  wind,  as  it  rushes  through  the 
fringe  of  the  town,  out  into  the  country,  fairly  flying  past  houses  and 
bams,  through  fields,  through  gullies  and  cuts,  past  Paddleford  and 
Farmington,  Victor,  and  Fishers,  and  then,  the  great  throb  of 
joy — the  wide  expanse  of  tracks  at  Elast  Rochester,  the  streets  and 
rows  of  houses,  the  great  factory  buildings. 

Herman  set  the  boys  a  jumping  round  the  room,  one  evening 
in  May,  by  saying  he  intended  to  take  them  to  Rochester  the  follow- 
ing day  to  see  a  confirmation  in  the  Reform  Temple.  They  be- 
gan to  wave  their  hands  and  cry  aloud  in  boyish  deUght  before  he 
had  an  opportunity  to  explain  his  purp>ose. 

What  cared  they  for  his  explanations?  The  pleasure  of  see- 
99 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

ing  the  city  crowded  out  every  other  consideration,  "I  want  to 
show  you  how  Jewish  children  are  confirmed,"  he  said,  despite 
their  hilarity. 

"Hurrah!  Hurrah!"  Ludwig  was  shouting,  and  Gottlieb  who 
echoed  his  every  syllable,  was  marching  noisily  behind  him. 

Lustig  f>ermitted  them  to  vent  their  enthusiasm,  and,  after 
they  had  calmed  down,  told  them  that  the  oldest  daughter  of  one 
of  his  playmates  was  to  be  confirmed,  and  he  wanted  them  to  see 
her  as  well  as  the  ceremony.  "We  are  Jewish  p>eople,  you  know. 
Even  if  we  do  live  in  a  country  town,  we  musn't  forget  that  we  are 
Jews." 

It  was  a  tedious  night  for  them.  The  intervening  hours  be- 
^tween  sunset  and  daylight  seemed  like  a  century.  But  when  the 
day  dawned,  and  the  young,  ruddy  sunlight  tinted  the  Bristol  and 
sparkled  on  the  lake,  the  boys,  flushed  with  excitement  and  ex- 
pectancy, were  comfortably  seated  in  the  plush  seats  of  the  day- 
coach,  and  were  flying  on  to  the  city.  It  was  an  important  event; 
and  when  they  stepped  from  the  car  and  followed  the  sp>eedy  steps 
of  their  father,  and  heard  the  hotel  criers  calling,  "Whitcomb  Houset 
Osborne  House,  Powers  Hotel,"  they  considered  themselves  very 
important  beings.  Here  indeed,  they  were  in  the  city,  and  every- 
thing wonderful  stretched  before  them.  But  they  now  had  no 
time  to  lose  in  sight  seeing. 

They  were  to  have  a  new  experience.  They  had  never  been 
in  a  Jewish  synagogue.  TTiey  had  seen  the  inside  of  the  churches 
in  Canaway  and  once  Lustig  permitted  them  to  accompany  Charlie 
Ashley  to  Sunday  School.  Now  they  were  to  enter  what  they  called 
"their  own  church,"  and  they  were  eager  to  be  there  and  see  what 
it  was  like. 

A  large  crowd  of  fashionably-dressed  men  and  women  were 
hurrying  toward  the  temple  on  St.  Paul  Street,  as  the  Lustig  boys 

100 


CONFIRMATION  DAY 

came  tripping  along,  both  of  them  holding  tightly  to  their  father's 
hand.     Many  f)ersons  were  entering  the  Temple. 

"Come,"  Lustig  said  softly,  as  he  caught  the  organ  strains 
floating  out  on  the  busy  streets,  "we  are  just  in  time." 

So  crowded  were  the  seats  and  aisles,  that  with  difficulty 
Lustig  was  ushered  to  his  own  pew  in  the  gallery. 

"Keep  your  eyes  of>en,  boys,"  he  advised,  as  soon  as  they  had 
squeezed  into  the  seat,  "and  you  will  see  some  fine  girls  and  boys." 
But  he  had  hardly  finished  his  remark  when  the  organ  pealed 
forth  a  slow,  solemn  march  and  every  one  about  then  craned  his 
neck  to  watch  the  procession.  As  the  soft,  solemn  tones  floated 
from  the  large  musical  instnmient,  the  boys,  looking  over  the  edge 
of  the  gallery,  saw  a  pale  man  of  medium  height  leading  a  pro- 
cession of  young  girls,  all  dressed  in  white,  their  eyes  fastened  on  the 
bouquets  they  had  in  their  hands.  They  marched  down  the 
middle  aisle.  Slowly,  and  with  measured  steps,  they  advanced. 
All  eyes  were  turned  toward  them  as  they  moved  along  almost 
imperceptibly.  Following  them  came  the  boys,  less  impressed  by 
the  solemnity  of  the  occasion  than  -were  the  girls — for  they  looked 
about,  trying  to  obtain  recognition  from  relatives  in  the  audience. 

The  girls  were  now  finding  their  seats  on  the  platform,  be- 
hind f>a  1ms  and  banks  of  p>otted  flowers,  and  the  boys,  too,  were 
filling  the  camp  chairs.  The  tallest  boy,  in  his  first  long  trousers, 
was  stepping  alertly  upon  the  platform,  and  the  great  organ's  tones 
were  subdued,  when  Lustig,  his  eyes  filled  with  tears,  sought  the 
attentive  faces  of  his  boys. 

"You'll  be  doing  that  some  day,"  he  whispered,  "if  you  are 
spared  to  us." 

"Are  they  confirmed  now?"  Gottlieb  ventured  to  ask  in  a 
whisper. 

"f-Iush,"  Lustig  cautioned,  "we  mustn't  speak  or  whisper  in 
Schule. 

101 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

"When  are  they  confirmed?"  Ludwig  persisted. 

"You  \vill  see,"  his  father  returned  firmly.  Tlie  congregation 
had  risen  at  the  sonorous  reading  of  a  Hebrew  sentence.  Tlie  pale, 
nervous  man  in  the  pulpit  was  repeating  in  the  same  language  some 
words  which  the  boys  could  not  understand;  and,  in  a  full,  melod- 
ious chant,  the  choir  responded;  then,  amid  the  rusthng  of  skirts 
and  the  scraping  of  feet,  the  congregation  reseated  itself. 

The  reading  continued.  The  instant  the  boys  heard  the 
words,  they  began  questioning  their  father.  "Who  is  that  man?" 
Gotdieb     asked     quietly. 

"Hush!  Lustig  answered,  turning  on  them  a  commanding 
look,  "you  mustn't  whisper!  The  man  dosen't  hke  it.  He's  a 
Jewish  minister,  a  rabbi,  Dr.  Hillman,  a  very  learned  man.  Some 
days,  boys,  you  will  study  under  him.     Now  Usten!" 

The  boys  found  it  difficult  to  comply  with  their  father's  request. 
Tliere  were  so  many  interesting  and  stramge  sights  that  they  wished 
to  inquire  about.  It  was  all  very  new;  and  yet,  somehow,  they  did 
not  feel  out  of  place,  as  they  did  when  they  sat,  |>ardy  scared  and 
very  shy,  in  CharUe  Ashley's  Sunday  school.  To  be  sure,  they  did 
not  know  why  their  father  turned  the  pages  of  a  book  that  an  usher 
brought  him,  why  and  what  he  murmured  aloud,  and  why,  some- 
times, he  arose  emd  repeated  after  the  Rabbi,  words  that  they  did 
not  understand.  But  they  sat  contentedly,  noting  everything, 
looking  down  on  the  even  rows  of  men  and  women,  then  up  to  the 
blue  ceiling,  dotted  v^th  its  gilt  stars.  And  when  they  tired  of  that, 
their  eyes  centered  on  the  platform,  where  the  boys  and  girls  sat 
quietly  reading  the  ritual.  Although  it  was  the  first  time  they  had 
been  inside  of  a  Jewish  Temple,  it  seemed  to  them  somehow  that 
they  had  been  there  before;  at  any  rate,  so  vividly  had  their  father 
described  the  synagogue  in  Schwersenz,  that  they  felt  at  home 
here.  What  astonished  them  more  than  the  building  and  the  ser- 
vice, was  the  size  of  the  congregation.     Where  did  so  many  Jewish 

102 


CONHRMATION  DAY 

people  come  from?    Could  it  be  that  there  were,  all  told,  so  many 
Jews  in  the  world? 

Not  until  one  ot  the  boys  on  the  platform  arose  from  his  seat  and 
began  to  speak  did  the  young  Lustig  annoy  their  father  with  another 
question. 

"Is  he  going  to  recite  a  piece?"  Ludwig  asked,  recalling  a 
similar  public  school  exp>erience. 

"Watch,  now  boys;  that's  Leopold  Carson's  son.  Some 
day  you  will  stand  up  there  and  speak,  too.  Every  Jewish  boy 
must  make  a  Httle  speech  in  the  Temple;  that  makes  a  man  of  him." 

The  conflrmant's  voice,  owing  to  his  diffidence  probably  seem- 
ed to  be  weak  or  cracked,  and  the  Lustigs  did  not,  at  first,  under- 
stand all  he  said.  Later  they  made  out  somethings,  especially  when, 
in  a  strong  clear  tone,  he  thanked  his  parents  for  all  the  care  and 
kindness  with  which  they  had  guarded  his  young,  helpless  years — 
thanked  his  teachers  for  the  many  useful  lessons  he  had  received,  and 
now, "he  hof>ed  to  grow  up  into  useful  manhood,  an  honor  to  his 
parents,  his  country  and  his  religion." 

The  address  was  brief — but  they  had  never  heard  anyone 
speak  quite  in  that  way,  and  they  felt  proud  of  what  they  had 
heard.  With  an  approving  eye,  Ludwig  turned  to  his  father  and 
whispered,  "I  want  to  do  that  some  day." 

"Of  course  you  do — some  day  when  you  are  Bar-mitzvah." 

"What's  next?"    Cottlieb  interrupted,  impatient  of  delays. 

When  their  eyes  fell  on  the  platform,  they  saw  a  little  girl 
standing  before  the  altar,  her  eyes  uplifted  and  she  was  saying  that 
she  had  "reached  an  ep)och  in  her  young  life,"  which  statement 
was  followed  by  many  fine  expressions.  But  the  Lustigs  were 
not  so  much  interested  in  her.  They  never  liked  to  hear  girls  speak 
anyway.  Cirls  rarely  recited  as  well  as  boys,  and  then  this  girl 
lifted  her  eyes  up  and  never  looked  at  anyone.  Boys  looked 
right  at  people. 

103 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

The  many  addresses  and  prayers  began  to  weary  the  young 
Lustigs.  TTiey  shifted  restlessly  in  their  seats  and  annoyed  their 
father  with  needless  questions.  He,  too,  showed  his  impatience 
by  taking  out  his  watch  and  saying:  "I  wonder  when  Dora  will 
speak?" 

She  was  late  to  rise.  No  sooner  had  she  stood  up  than  Lustig 
forgetful  of  his  sons,  leaned  further  over,  craning  his  neck,  fastening 
his  eyes  on  her,  so  that  he  might  not  lose  a  syllable  or  gesture. 

"Is  that  our  Dora?"  Gottlieb  ventured  to  ask. 

"Zlelig  Holtsman's  daughter.  Her  father  was  my  classmate. 
Listen  to  her!" 

The  boys  wondered  what  made  their  father  blush;  why  his 
eyes  grew  big  and  tearful,  as  he  heard  her  trembling  tones;  and, 
when  she  referred  to  her  own  father,  "so  soon  called  from  earth," 
they  saw  tears  roll  down  Lustig's  cheeks  and  noticed  that  some 
woman  in  back  of  them  began  to  cry  aloud. 

Tliey  could  not  understand  what  this  meant.  But  they  heard 
Miss  Holtsman  say;  "May  He  keep  his  guardian  watch  over  me," 
and  then  she  suddenly  stopped  speaking  and  burst  into  tears. 

"Poor  Dora,"  Lustig  murmured,  deeply  moved. 

For  an  instant  the  boys  stared  at  their  father  in  bewilderment, 
and  then,  unable  to  fathom  it  all,  glanced  carelessly  toward  the 
young  girl,  who  stood  facing  the  congregation  and  sobbing. 

Tlie  Rabbi  waited  a  htde,  and,  when  the  hush  of  the  sympa- 
thetic audience  grew  more  evident,  he  stepp>ed  to  the  girl's  side, 
patted  her  gently,  to  encourage  her,  and  then  said  to  the  congre- 
gation: "Be  patient  with  her;  this  is  a  trying  ordeal." 

His  words  either  stimulated  or  nettled  her.  Raising  her  head 
suddenly,  she  stepped  forward  and,  as  if  she  had  not  been  inter- 
rupted, said  bravely: 

"May,  from  this  heavenly  height,  my  father,  look  dovkii  upon 
me  this  great  day  of  my  young  life.    May  his  memory  bum  ever 

104 


CONRRMATION  DAY 

brighter  and  brighter,  and,  although  on  the  long  way  I  must  go 
alone,  may  it  be  for  me  a  cloud  by  day,  a  pillar  of  (ire  by  night. 
Thou,  who  are  the  father  of  the  fearless,  protect  and  guard  me  in 
all  my  ways.  Bless  those  who  guided  me  in  childhood;  and  now 
that  I  step  forward  into  girlhood,  be  Thou  with  me  still.  Bless  my 
teachers,  and  all  those  who  have  so  sincerely  directed  me;  my 
many  friends,  and  all  those  who  have  befriended  me;  and  my 
sisters  and  brothers,  who  with  me  suffered  the  loss  of  childhood's 
stay  and  staff.  Strengthen  me  to  be  father  and  mother  to  them — 
so  that  they  may  never  know  the  loneliness  of  a  homeless  child. 
Bless  this  congregation  and  the  dear  Rabbi  who  ministers  here; 
and  the  officers  and  all  its  members.  O,  give  me  the  heart  to  know 
TTiy  ways,  that  in  TTiee  I  may  find  strength  and  peace  within 
the  gates  of  Hfe.    Amen." 

So  fervently  had  she  spoken  that  the  Rabbi  clasped  her 
hand  and  drew  her  toward  him.  By  reason  of  the  hum  and  buzz 
and  the  nodding  of  heads  among  the  people  below  and  about  them, 
the  boys  reahzed  that  something  unusual  had  taken  place.  And 
then  there  was  the  one  indisputable  evidence  that  their  father  had 
been  weeping  in  his  vigorous  using  of  his  handkerchief. 

Lustig  dried  his  eyes  before  he  turned  to  his  sons. 

"Wasn't  that  fine,  boys?"  he  said.happily.  "Poor  Dora  is  an 
orphan.  I  feared  she  would  break  down.  But  she  outdid  them 
all.     She  is  a  bright  young  girl." 

He  nudged  Ludwig  and  Gottlieb,  who  sat  one  on  each  side  of 
him.  The  class  had  now  encircled  the  Rabbi,  and  were  repeating 
the  blessings  which  come  before  the  reading  of  the  scroll.  Then  the 
confirmants  all  read  from  the  Book  of  Law  (just  as  once  upon  a 
time  Ludwig  himself  had  read  from  it)  they  were  now  considered 
sons  of  the  covenant.  Although  the  ceremony  was  veiled  in  mystery 
and  to  Ludwig  and  Gottlieb  unintelligible,  it  interested  them  to 
hear  the  boys  read  Hebrew  and  pronounce  the  blessing.    No  boys 

105 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

in  Canaway  were  able  to  do  that;  and  it  filled  them  with  pride 
to  feel  assured  that  some  day  they,  too,  would  stand  on  the  platform 
as  their  father  told  them,  and  pronounce  those  words. 

With  interest  they  watched  each  move  of  the  Rabbi  and  the 
confirmants  while  he  rolled  the  scroll  together,  and,  covering  it 
with  a  silk  hood,  placed  the  silver  pointer  and  shield  over  it.  Then 
he,  turning  to  the  class,  said: 

"On  this  day,  my  children,  you  testify  before  God  and  man 
that  you  are  members  of  Israel's  holy  covenant.  Do  you  promise 
to  fulfil  to  the  best  of  your  ability,  all  the  responsibilities  that  follow 
from  that  declaration?" 

The  Rabbi,  as  well  as  the  Lustig  boys,  waited  patiently  for 
the  answer.     In  a  low,  solemn  voice  the  entire  class  responded; 

"We  confess  this  before  Thee,  this  day,  O  God  and  God  of 
our  Fathers,  that  Thou  art  the  shield  of  our  lives,  our  preserver  and 
redeemer.  From  of  old  Thou  hast  led  our  Fathers,  and  standest, 
even  this  day,  at  our  right  hand  to  lead  us  in  the  paths  of  life.  The 
covenant  is  with  us,  as  it  was  with  them.  Thy  law  is  the  light  to 
guide  us,  and  to  do  Thy  will  is  our  delight.  Trusting  in  Thy 
infinite  mercy,  our  fathers  suffered  trials  and  misfortunes,  to  be  the 
priestly  people,  and  to  teach  all  men  Thy  law  of  justice  and  right- 
eousness. Fully  conscious  of  our  appointment,  we  promise  to 
fulfill  Thy  divine  purposes,  so  that  we  may,  with  our  last  breath, 
confidently  exclaim:  "Hear,  O  Israel,  the  Lord  our  God,  the 
Lord  is  one." 

The  Rabbi  laid  his  hands  on  the  head  of  each  of  the  confir- 
ments,  pronounced  a  few  words  which  the  hubbub  of  the  congrega- 
tion made  inaudible,  and  led  the  boys  and  girls  slowly  down  the 
platform,  amid  the  pleased  glances  and  other  expressions  of  glad- 
ness of  all  present. 

Lustig  was  too  preoccupied  in  disentangling  himself  and  his 
boys  from  the  crowd  that  encumbered  the  doorways  to  answer 

106 


CONFIRMATION  DAY 

immediately  their  questions:  and  then  many  men  recognized 
Lustig  and  insisted  on  shaking  hands  and  learning  the  names  of 
his  sons. 

The  immense  congregation  seemed  reluctant  to  leave  the 
synagogue.  For  some  time  people  clustered  about  the  building. 
Every  one  had  some  friend  to  greet  or  some  proud  parent  to  con- 
gratulate. Lured  by  the  unusual  scene,  many  of  the  city's  idlers 
gathered  on  the  opposite  of  the  street  to  watch  the  outcoming  and 
vivacious  assemblages.  Truck  drivers,  messenger  boys,  merchants 
and  the  busy  population  of  St.  Paul  street  stood  about,  as  the  people 
drifted  slov^^ly  homeward.  Here  and  there,  some  boys,  smartly 
dressed,  darted  in  and  out  of  the  crowd,  and  finally  the  ranks  thin- 
ned. The  last  carriage  had  driven  up  to  the  curb  stone;  and  the 
only  man  left  about  the  building  was  the  busding  sexton,  Alex. 
Blumendale,  who,  in  his  silk  hat  and  with  bulky  frame,  was  for- 
cibly closing  the  huge  Temple  gates. 

Tlie  dinner  in  the  palm  garden  of  Brunswick  Hotel  did  not 
afford  the  boys  as  much  amusement  as  Lustig  had  anticipated. 
TTie  Hungarian  band,  and  the  neat  tables  and  white  chairs,  did  not 
appeal  to  them  as  much  as  they  did  to  Lustig,  who  had  refused 
several  invitations  to  dine  there.  It  was  not  until  they  were  on 
their  way  to  Dora's  that  they  referred  to  the  confirmation.  "Her 
papa  and  I  were  classmates,"  Lustig  was  explaining,  in  answer 
to  countless  questions.  "Zelig  and  I  came  over  together  in  the 
same  ship,  and  we  both  started  peddling  together." 

"Were  you  confirmed?"    Ludwig  asked  with  interest. 

"Well,  we  were  Bar-mitzvah — that's  about  the  same  thing. 
But  we  did  things  differently  in  the  old  country.  The  day  after 
I  was  Bar-mitzvah  my  father  said:  'Herman,  tomorrow  you  go 
to  Solomon's  and  learn  tailoring;'  and  the  day  after  Zelig  was 
Bar-mitzvah  his  father  look  him  to  Harris  Jacobs  and  had  him 

107 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

leam  shoemaking.  Tliat  was  our  Bar-mitzvah  reception.  You, 
boys,  don't  know  how  easy  you  have  it  here  in  America." 

"Didn't  you  keep  chickens  and  make  a  circus?"  Gottlieb 
queried. 

"Ho,  ho,  Lustig  laughed,  "we  had  to  earn  our  hving.  We 
had  no  time  to  enjoy  ourselves,  as  you  boys  do  here,  h  was  work 
or  starve.  Once  in  a  while  we  had  a  little  hin.  One  day,  Zelig 
made  a  wagon  from  an  old  box  he  found  in  the  streets;  and,  when 
his  mother  saw  it,  she  sent  the  two  of  us  to  the  street  fair  in  Posen, 
to  haul  home  a  bushel  of  potatoes  in  the  wagon.  So,  we  two  chaps 
went  to  Posen,  got  the  potatoes,  and  started  home.  When  we  were 
on  the  highway,  Zelig  said:  'Hyman,  lets*  go  to  America  now.'  " 

"To  America,"  I  cried,  "how  can  we?  We  haven't  any 
money." 

"  'Oh,  we  have  this  cart  and  some  potatoes.  If  we  walk  far 
enough,  we  v^ll  reach  America.  See,  it's  way  over  there,'  and  he 
pointed  westward." 

"What  will  you  do  when  you  reach  the  ocean?"  I  asked  him, 
laughing. 

"Well,  boys,  I  had  struck  the  fellow  dead,  he  couldn't  have 
turned  paler.  He  just  fell  down  on  the  ground,  and  began  to  cry. 
I  laughed,  and  let  him  cry.  'Ho,  ho'  I  said,  'want  to  go  to  America 
in  a  cart,  eh,  and  cross  the  ocean  in  it  and  get  wet?'  " 

"He  didn't  cry  long.  Suddenly  he  jumped  to  his  feet.  'I'll 
tell  you  what  we'll  do!'  he  cried,  excitedly,  'we  will  go  around  the 
other  way,  and  come  in  at  the  back  door.  Will  you  do  that, 
'Hyman?'  " 

"Did  you  go?"  they  asked. 

"Yes,  yes,"  Lustig  replied,  amused  at  their  confusion.  We 
came  over  together  in  somebody  else's  cart,  and  began  peddling  as 
every  poor  man  did  in  those  days.  Zelig  settled  in  Rochester, 
and  I  went  to  Canaway.     After  a  while  he  married — well,  it's  a 

108 


CONFIRMATION  DAY 

long  story.  First  he  died  and  then  his  wife;  and  now  the  children 
are  orphans — that's  why  Dora  cried — ^her  papa  and  mama  are 
both  dead." 

"What  do  children  do  whose  parents  are  dead?"  Gottlieb 
asked. 

"We  take  care  of  them,"  Lustig  said  sadly.  "We  don't  want 
anyone  to  suffer.  We  want  them  to  grow  up  to  be  brave  and 
strong,  to  be  men  and  women  and  to  do  their  duty.  That's  all  we 
Jews  want  people  to  do.  Suppose,"  he  aded  slowly,  lowering  his 
voice,  "suppose  we  take  Dora  home  with  us." 

"Will  she  make  molasses  candy  for  us  like  Minne  Ashley?" 
Gottlieb  asked. 

"Charlie  Ashley  has  a  big  sister,"  Ludwig  broke  in,  taking 
the  hint  from  Gottlieb's  question. 

TTie  boys  were  eager  to  meet  her.  All  the  way  to  Philip 
Beer's,  where  she  was  receiving,  Lustig  continued  to  talk  about 
her  and  her  father.  Either  her  popularity  or  the  pathos  of  her 
orphanage  made  her  the  most  sought  after  of  the  confirmants  of 
this  day.  When  the  Lustigs  were  ushered  into  the  spacious  parlor, 
they  added  another  group  to  the  crowd  that  clustered  about  with 
greetings  for  the  young  girl,  who  returned  smiling  thanks  for  all 
their  compliments.  For  a  time  they  stood  unnoticed,  the  boys  too 
embarrassed  to  move,  and  Lustig  viewing  with  smiling  approval 
the  attention  bestowed  upon  her.  But  the  crowd  broke,  Dora 
sighted  Lustig  and  flew  toward  him,  flinging  her  arms  about  him, 
bursting  into  tears,  while  the  many  friends  and  visitors  bowed  in 
resjjectful  recognition  of  her  feelings. 

"Well,  your  Zelig's  daughter,  that's  why  I  came,"  Lustig 
said  to  her,  "and  if  I  can  no  longer  serve  him,  I  can  serve  you." 

His  apt  speech  was  followed  by  a  signal  to  lead  the  boys  into 
the  dining-room,  where,  amid  a  throng  of  other  children,  they  were 
served  with  ice-cream  and  such  delicious  ice-cream  it  was.     No 

109 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

one  in  Canaway  ever  tasted  ice-cream  so  sweet  and  delicious. 
And  the  bananas  and  oranges  and  grapes  and  cakes!  Tlie  lady 
who  attended  to  the  ravenous  apjjetites  of  the  young  folks  saw  to  it 
that  every  plate  was  abundantly  supplied;  and  when  the  youthful 
Lustigs  had  their  full,  and  edged  their  way  into  the  parlor,  they 
found  their  father  engrossed  in  conversation  with  a  large,  broad- 
shouldered  man,  whose  iron-gray  hair  fell  in  thick  folds  over  a  high 
broad  forehead. 

"Are  these  your  sons?"  he  asked  raising  his  shaggy  brows. 
"Pleased  to  meet  you,  young  gentlemen,"  he  said,  formally 
shciking  each  one  by  the  hand.  "Did  your  father  tell  you  that 
Levi  Lewisohn  is  a  Schwersenzer?  And  turning  to  Dora,  who  had 
flitted  into  the  room,  he  said:  'I  came  all  the  way  from  New  York 
to  be  here  at  your  confirmation.  Your  father,  Lustig  here,  and 
myself  were  Bar-mitzvah  about  the  same  time  and  then  we  scatter- 
ed over  the  face  of  the  earth.  This  man,  Lustig,  do  you  know, 
I  haven't  seen  him  since  I  left  Schwersenz." 

"Do  you  remember,  Hyman,"  he  turned  to  ask,  "the  time 
Rabbi  Chronik  thrashed  you  because  you  didn't  learn  your  para- 
sha?" 

"Yes,  I  do!  Lustig  answered  emphatically.  But  don't  you 
remember  when  you  took  Schayah's  tephillin  (Phylacteries)  and 
exchanged  them  for  Schammes'?  And  when  the  Schammes  dis- 
covered another's  tephillin  in  his  bag,  he  thought,  the  Rabbi  had 
thoughdessly  misplaced  his  own,  so  he  put  Schayah's  in  the  Rabbi's 
bag,  and  every  boy  in  Cheder  split  his  sides  over  the  joke." 

These  recollections  amused  the  men,  esp>ecially  those  who 
had  grouped  themselves  about  Lustig  and  Lewisohn. 

But  Ludwig  and  Gottlieb  did  not  appreciate  the  conversation 
and  stared  curiously  at  Dora,  who  presently  sat  down  beside  them 
to  listen  to  the  men. 

"Tell  me,  Hyman,  do  you  remember  your  Bar-mitzvah?" 

no 


CONHRMATION  DAY 

Without  waiting  for  Lustig  to  answer,  he  began  to  chant  his 
own  section,  in  the  p>eculiar  cantillation  of  PoUsh  Prussia,  and  then 
stopped  abruptly,  as  if  arrested  by  some  recollection.  "Do  you 
know  Hyman,  I  often  recall  those  days.  We  were  quite  a  crowd. 
There  was  Moritz  Lazarus,  he's  a  great  professor  in  the  old  country 
then  there's  Zalinsky,  he's  an  officer  in  our  navy;  why.  New  York's 
full  of  Schwersenzer  boys,  all  of  them  wealthy  merchants — ^Adolph 
Rich,  Jacob  Harris,  Mendel  Lesser,  Gustav  Rothholtz  and  the 
great  Rabbi  of  Temple  Elmanuel,  his  home  was  not  far  from  Sch- 
wersenz.    All  are  now  in  this  great  country." 

"All  but  papa,"  Dora  added  mournfully. 

"Gods  will,  my  dear  girl,"  Lewissohn  reminded  her  sympa- 
thetically. "But  is  your  father  so  far  away  from  us?  I  see  Zelig 
Holtzman  in  your  sweet  face.  I  heard  him  in  the  beautiful  prayer 
you  recited  this  morning.  Do  you  imagine,  for  one  moment,  we, 
Schwersenzer  boys,  would  let  you  suffer  or  want  for  anything? 
Why,  we  have  all  been  spanked  by  one  teacher  and  we  never 
forgot  our  playmates;  and  then  we  have  Jewish  hearts  we  remember 
our  dear  ones.  That's  why  we  are  Bar-mitzvah.  Once  Zelig 
was  your  father,  and  now  every  Schwersenzer  is.  If  you  want  a 
home — " 

"Dora's  going  home  with  us,"  Gottlieb  declared. 
Lewissohn  turned  a  sharp  look  on  Lustig,  who  was  pleased  at 
his  son's  proud  vindication.  "That  Schwersenz  rascal,"  pointing 
at  Lustig,  "always  gets  the  best  of  mel  Once  he  met  me  in  the  old 
market  place,  as  I  was  eating  an  apple.  'Levi,'  he  said  'did  you 
ever  make  an  apple  vanish  without  touching  it  with  your  hands?" 
No,  I,  hke  a  fool,  stammered.     'Show  me.' 

"This  is  what  your  father  did,"  he  said  looking  at  the  boys. 
"He  took  my  apple,  put  it  on  the  ground,  lay  flat  down,  picked  up 
the  apple  with  his  teeth,  and  ran  away.  Tliis  time,  he  takes 
Dora  away  from  me!     Well,  God  bless  him,  anyhowl" 

111 


CHAPTER  VII. 
A  COUNTRY  CHEDER. 

Ludwig  and  Gottlieb  were  greatly  excited  over  the  informa- 
tion their  father  imparted  one  June  evening,  when  he  announced 
with  his  usual  persuading  cheerfulness  that  he  had  arranged  to  have 
them  taught  Hebrew.  The  boys  were  sorely  perplexed.  For* 
of  all  things  he  had  told  them — and  he  had,  as  you  know,  narrated 
sundry  episodes  of  his  early  days  in  Schwersenz,  not  to  mention 
the  many  incidents  that  had  happened  in  Canaway — he  had  never 
told  them  what  Hebrew  was. 

TTiey  were,  therefore,  a  trifle  anxious;  and,  if  the  truth  must 
be  said,  they  did  not  know  exactly  what  to  make  of  the  news. 
It  presented  to  their  young  minds  many  mysteries.  This  is  certain. 
Not  one  of  the  Gentile  children  had  ever  said  anything  about 
Hebrew,  and  so  the  Lustig  boys  were  quite  in  the  dark. 

"What  is  Hebrew,  papa?"  Ludwig  asked,  concealing  his 
bewilderment  sufficiently  to  show  intelligent  curiosity. 

"My  son,"  Herman  replied  with  more  severity  than  the  question 
warranted,  "we  are  Jews;  and  Hebrew  is  our  holy  language.  Every 
Jewish  boy  ought  to  know  a  little  of  Hebrew,  in  order  to  under- 
stand his  religion.  And,  just  as  luck  would  have  it,  a  Hebrew 
teacher  has  come  to  Hve  in  Canaway." 

"What's  his  name?"    they  asked  with  lively  interest. 

"Hyman  Goldstein,,  D,  D..  professor  of  music  and  languages." 

But  this  they  could  not  understand,  and  stared  at  their  father 
with  amazement,  baffled  by  the  long-sounding  words. 

But  they  soon  learned.  On  that  very  afternoon  the  newcomer 
112 


A  COUNTRY  CHEDER 

had  stumbled  into  Lustig's  store,  made  his  p>eace  with  the  proprie- 
tor, and  ended  the  visit  by  arranging  to  instruct  Ludwig  and  Gott- 
lieb in  Hebrew.  So  far  as  they  were  concerned,  this  was  sufficient 
to  fill  them  with  either  pleasure  or  dismay;  but  that  the  forlorn  pro- 
fessor came  to  Canaway  with  his  large  family  because  he  did  not 
have  money  to  take  him  elsewhere,  and  that  he  and  his  family  were 
allowed  the  use  of  an  abandoned  house  on  a  back  street  where  he 
proposed  to  support  his  family  by  the  precarious  method  of  teach- 
ing music  and  language  to  unappreciative  townsfolk — these  grim 
facts  and  the  pitiful  struggles  of  this  unfortunate  man,  Lustig  did 
not  relate  to  his  sons.  They  would  not  have  realized  their  pathos. 
The  professor  himself  interested  the  boys  more  than  his  untoward 
circumstances.  After  answering  many  inquires,  Lustig  proceeded 
to  describe  the  teacher. 

"Oh,  I  know  him,"  Ludwig  interrupted  with  animation. 
"He  wears  a  stovepip>e,  and  all  of  the  boys  threw  stones  at  him,." 

"You  must  not  throw  stones  at  him,"  Lustig  commanded  them. 
"He's  a  learned  man;  you  must  resf>ect  a  learned  man." 

"The  boys  chased  him  all  the  way  down  Coy  street,"  Ludwig 
continued  excitedly. 

"And  every  one  yelled  after  him,"  Gottlieb  broke  in,  'Say 
Mister,  where  did  you  get  that  hat?'  Yes,  they  did  papa.  I 
heard  them." 

His  high  hat  was  indeed  conspicuous  in  spite  of  its  shabbiness; 
and  the  urchins  of  Canaway  could  not  help  noticing  it.  In  fact  it 
was  the  third  of  its  kind  to  appear  in  town.  One  was  worn  by  the 
manager  of  Bamum's  circus,  another  by  a  country  physician  of 
Reed's  Comers,  a  third  by  Hyman  Goldstein,  D.  D.,  professor  of 
music  and  language. 

"Why  does  he  wear  that  long  coat?"  Ludwig  asked,  after  he 
had  exhausted  all  available  information  bearing  on  the  significance 
of  the  hat. 

113 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

"His  Prince  Albert  you  mean,"  Lustig  observed.  "Oh,  that's 
fashionable.  All  professors  wear  long  coats  to  make  them  look 
smart." 

"He's  got  such  big  whiskers,"  Gottlieb  cried  out,  "and  he  is 
so  odd."  Lustig  tried  to  contain  himself  in  defending  the  unusual 
appearance  of  the  newcomer,  which  does  not  imply  that  the  pro- 
fessor was  uncaimy  or  unsighdy,  but  that  the  iimocent  people  of 
Canaway  had  seldom  rested  their  eyes  on  one  so  distinguished  as 
a  professor  of  music  and  languages.  After  skillfully  defending  his 
client,  Lustig  succeeded  in  awakening  in  his  sons  a  prop>er  regard 
for  the  man,  as  well  as  a  desire  to  receive  instruction  from  him. 
Such  glowing  accounts  did  Lustig  give  of  his  accomplishments,  that 
the  instruction  they  were  to  receive  on  the  following  afternoon 
promised  to  be  one  of  the  greatest  events  of  their  hves. 

Early  next  morning  both  boys  were  on  the  street  telhng  all 
their  playmates  what  they  had  in  store. 

"We  are  going  to  take  Hebrew  lessons  of  Professor  Hyman 
Goldstein,"  dee,  dee,  they  said  proudly.  "Only  smart  f>eople 
study  Hebrew." 

"Humph,  that's  nothing."  Charlie  Ashley  returned  unim- 
pressed by  what  the  lads  told  him  so  innocently.  My  sister,  she's 
in  the  normaJ  school  at  Genesee.  She  takes  botany  and  hy- 
drogen, and  she  is  awfuUy  smarter." 

"Well,  Hebrew  is  the  holy  language,  that's  what  my  papa 
says  and  only  Jews  study  it.  We  are  going  to  take  religion." 
Ludwig  added  prompdy. 

But  Charlie  was  not  affected  by  even  this  additional  reminder. 
"That's  nothing,"  he  related  blandly.  "I  study  catechism  in  church. 
Reverend  Lee,  he  teaches  that,  and  he's  smart,  too." 

But  the  Lustigs  boy  did  not  know  nor  care  v\^at  all  this  meant; 
and  thus,  having  driven  themselves  into  unknown  realms,  they 

\\4 


A  COUNTRY  CHEDER 

abruptly  changed  the  subject  by  referring  to  things  of  greater  mo- 
ment to  them. 

"Say,  Ludie,"  Charlie  drawled,  "have  you  seen  my  dove 
eggs?" 

The  three  repaired  instandy  to  the  dovecote  that  Charlie  had 
built  in  the  back  yard  of  dry  goods  boxes  given  by  Mr.  Lustig,  and 
instandy  forgot  every  other  matter  v/hile  insf>ecting  the  wonder- 
fully made  litUe  white  eggs.  For  some  time  they  glowed  over 
them,  and  then,  having  commented  to  the  full  extent  of  their  know- 
ledge, the  three  young  hopefuls  sauntered  down  Bristol  street  to 
see  what  the  Mutchler  boys  were  doing. 

It  was  cherry  season,  and  the  Mutchler  offsprings  were  found 
picking  Mrs.  Blodgett's  sour  cherries,  an  employment  in  which  the 
three  new  arrivals  soon  busied  themselves  with  such  diligence  and 
interest,  that  the  dove  eggs  and  Hebrew  lessons  were  for  the  time 
overlooked. 

But  this  is  certain;  every  boy  who  lived  in  Bristol  knew  before 
he  ate  his  dirmer  that  day  that  Ludwig  and  Gotdieb  were  going 
to  take  Hebrew  lessons  of  the  stranger  in  Coy  street;  and  futher- 
more,  that  odd  undersized  individual,  who  had  shot  out  of  space 
and  landed  in  Canaway,  was  none  other  than  a  wonderfully  learned 
man,  who  taught  music  and  languages  and  many  mysterious  things. 

The  children's  guileless  and  inexpensive  advertising  explained 
many  an  incident  which  the  professor  experienced  during  his  brief, 
but  busding  career  in  Canaway.  It  accounted  in  particular  for 
the  cohort  of  youngsters  that  surrounded  the  rural  Beth-Hamid- 
rash  on  the  afternoon  when  Gottlieb  and  Ludwig,  attired  in  the 
new  sailor  suits  their  father  brought  from  Rochester,  wandered 
over  to  Coy  street  on  the  most  solemn  and  awe-inspiring  journey 
of  their  young  lives.  Every  boy  on  Bristol  and  the  adjoining  streets 
accompanied  them.  ELach  was  anxious  to  see  a  Hebrew  teacher. 
Had  they  other  motives  such  were  not  patent.     Even  so,  they 

115 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

intended  to  introduce  themselves  by  the  favorite  method,  which 
country  lads  have  of  making  the  acquiantance  of  as  tranger,  that 
is  to  play  some  deviltry.  A  mutual  interest,  which  often  continues 
through  a  lifetime,  may  thus  be  compacted. 

In  this  instance,  however,  the  Canaway  boys  were  moved 
by  higher  impulses.  Tliey  were  at  least  as  eager  as  the  Lustigs 
were  to  see  what  species  of  a  man  or  beast  a  Hebrew  teacher  was. 

And,  it  is  fair  to  say  that  the  meeting  was  as  great  an  event 
for  the  professor's  family  as  it  was  for  the  lads.  For  when  Ludwig 
and  Gottlieb,  with  steps  slow  and  heavy,  walked  into  the  yard, 
they  found  the  professor's  family  awaiting  them.  The  teacher 
himself  in  a  solemn  black  but  shabby  Prince  Albert  coat,  graciously 
received  them  at  the  door  as  befits  a  professor  of  Hebrew;  and  then 
introduced  them  to  his  shrivelled  wife,  who  cast  servile  and  sad 
smiles  on  them  as  they  marched  through  the  narrow,  uncarp>eted 
hall  way,  passing  en  route  a  retinue  of  girls  and  boys,  each  of 
whom  was  scantily  clad  and  looked  thin  and  hungry. 

The  coming  seemed  to  have  been  formally  planned.  And 
how  could  any  one  help  finding  the  sf>ot?  Every  boy  in  Canaway 
knew  this  old,  green,  brick  house.  Tradition  reported,  with  self- 
evident  falsity,  that  it  was  built  in  the  days  of  Noah.  But  ever 
since  the  discovery  of  America  it  had  been  uninhabited  because, 
so  the  boys  said,  the  house  was  haunted.  TTiough  it  was  not 
haunted,  almost  every  window  pane  in  it  was  broken,  every  blind 
off  one  or  other  of  its  hinges  ,and  every  brick  loose  in  the  chimney. 
But  when  this  rejected  and  dejected  dwelUng  was  invested  wath 
scholastic  dignity  and  converted  into  a  studio,  as  well  as  a  school 
of  languages,  all  Canaway  must  needs  celebrate  the,  at  least  par- 
tial, rehabilitation  of  this  old  and  somewhat  dilapidated  dwelling. 
This  was  a  new  efjoch  in  the  history  of  the  town.  When,  in 
addition,  the  old  green,  brick  house  was  decorated  v^th  a  weather 
worn  sign,  bearing  the  singular  legend,  "Professor  Hyman  Gold- 

116 


A  COUNTRY  CHEDER 

stein,  D.  D.,  professor  of  music  and  languages,"  the  Canaway 
boys  felt  it  their  duty  to  use  the  sign  as  a  target.  For  what  other 
purpose  were  old  signs  for? 

Long  after  the  Lustigs  lads  had  lost  themselves  in  the  cavern- 
ous interior  the  cohort  of  youngsters  had  not  departed.  Some 
hung  around  the  building;  others  threw  themselves  on  the  uncut 
grass  of  the  front  yard;  others  began  the  time-honored  practice 
of  throwing  stones  at  the  sign;  and  then,  every  litde  while,  the  more 
impatient  ones  cried  out;  "Ludie,  oh,  Ludie,  come  on!  We're 
goin'  swimmin'!" 

'Tis  well  that  the  timorous  Lustigs  heard  merely  the  faint  ec- 
hoes of  the  voices  of  their  comrades.  It  sp>eaks  well  for  their  self- 
control  that  they  fastened  their  attention  on  the  jjeculiar  presence 
of  their  teacher,  who  had  escorted  them  to  the  front  room  which 
was  to  be  their  seat  of  learning.  And  it  revealed  a  fine  sense  of 
propriety  that  they  gazed  steadily  at  him  instead  of  looking  at 
the  boxes  and  bags  of  unpacked  furniture,  and  open  bags  and  boxes 
of  peanuts,  oranges  and  other  Italian  commodities  deposited  care- 
lessly around  the  uncarpeted  room.  Fright,  more  than  curiosity 
may  have  impelled  them  to  attend  to  their  instructor.  He  had 
planted  himself  squarely  before  them;  and  ere  they  had  found  a 
comfortable  position  on  the  hard  wooden  chair,  he  began  to  lecture 
about  the  majesty  of  all  languages,  with  peculiar  reference  to 
Hebrew. 

He  was  a  rapid  speaker,  making  use  of  words  they  had  never 
heard.  But  suddenly  he  interrupted  himself.  Staring  at  their 
bashful,  half-frightened  faces,  he  asked  curiously:  "Boys,  are 
you  twins?" 

"No",  Ludwig  answered  shyly.     "We  are  Jews." 

"Yah,  yah,  I  know!"  the  professor  snapped  irritably.  "Are 
you  twins?" 

"I  am  the  youngest,"  Gottlieb  ventured. 
117 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

"You  are  a  hacham!"  the  professor  exclaimed,  patting  his 
head.  "Now  my  dear  youths,  we  begin  the  study  of  our  mother 
tongue.  Hebrew  is  the  guardian  of  our  holy  scriptures.  The 
angels  discourse  in  Hebrew.  Tlie  cherubim  whisper  their  divine 
syllables  in  it.  Ah,  my  children,  when  your  tongues  are  touched 
by  fire,  the  exclamations  of  your  soul  are  proclaimed  in  Hebrew. 
We  now  begin  the  study  of  all  subordinate  languages.  As  we 
begin  French,  Latin,  Greek,  as  we  begin  violin  or  piano  instruction, 
so  we  begin  Hebrew  with  the  alphabet,  known  among  the  lexi- 
cographers as  the  aleph-beth." 

The  A,  B,  C?"  Gottlieb  suggested,  encouraged  by  his  former 
success.     "We  study  it  in  school." 

"Good;  the  professor  cried,  patting  him  again  on  the  head. 
"You  are  a  wise  lad.  Study  my  son,  and  learn.  Some  day  you 
will  be  a  signor." 

Ludwig  turned  a  bewildered  eye  on  his  younger  brother, 
who  seemed  to  have  won  the  Professor's  favor  suddenly  and  v^ath 
astonishing  ease,  and  thereafter  deferred  all  questions  to  Gottlieb. 

"Well,  now,"  began  the  professor,  "say  after  me:  Aleph  a,  a." 

"Aleph,  a,  a;  aleph,  beth,  gimmel;  gimmel,  daleth,  hey," 
sang  the  professor  of  music  and  languages. 

TThey  imitated  his  intonation. 

Tlieir  intonation  was  exact,  and  received  instant  approval. 

"Ah,"  Professor  Goldstein  exclaimed  gleefully,  "now  both 
of  you  are  instructible." 

Whirling  around,  he  snatched  an  open  primer  from  a  box  and 
handed  it  to  Gottlieb.  Both  boys  laid  hold  of  the  covers  and  held 
the  book  firmly  as  the  professor,  jxiinting  to  each  letter,  pronounces 
it  and  had  them  repeat  it  after  him  in  his  sing-song  style.  With 
singular  adaptability  they  mastered  the  pronounciation,  and  had 
learned  the  name  and  form  of  the  camel  shaped  lamed,  when, 
with  sudden  violence,  a  broadside  of  pebbles  hit  the  closed  shutters. 

MS 


A  COUNTRY  CHEDER 

The  professor  jumped  to  the  window. 

"Such  loafers,"  he  fumed  savagely.  "Wait  I  will  reprimand 
them  for  their  torments?  I  will  communicate  with  the  police. 
Such  imbecihties!" 

But  the  Lustigs  smothered  their  laughter  and  were  reading 
along  the  bottom  of  the  page  where  the  lonesome  shin  and  sin 
are  located,  when  the  drawling  tones  of  Charlie  Ashley  came 
through  the  window: 

"Ludie,  oh,  Ludie!  Come  onl     We're  goin'  swimmin'I" 

"Ach!"  the  professor  ejaculated,  scowling,  that's  the  boy! 
Does  the  boy  cogitate  on  the  holy  languages?  No.  The  boy 
never  touches  his  heartstrings  with  divine  speech.  Do  not  think 
about  them.  When  we  have  completed  our  instruction  I  will 
give  you  a  momentum." 

The  boys  looked  wistfully  at  an  open  bag  of  peanuts  and 
oranges.  The  professor  noted  the  direction  of  their  gaze  and 
smiled. 

"Yes,  yes  that  too,"  he  said  hurriedly,  pointing  to  the  fruity 
"but  something  better  than  all  things  material.  Indulge  me,  I 
will  read  you  some  poetry.  Youths,  do  you  know  I  am  a  poet? 
Furthermore,  have  you  ever  lisped  poetry?" 

He  turned  to  Gottlieb  who  had  heretofore  answered  all  ques- 
tions promptly  and  in  a  satisfactory  manner.  But  the  unhappy 
boy  knew  not  whereof  the  professor  sp>oke  and  hung  his  head 
in  dejection. 

"Ah,  f)oetry  is  the  chant  of  the  celestials,"  the  professor  ex- 
plained with  melting  sympathy;  and  full  of  anticipated  pleas- 
ures, he  suddenly  darted  from  the  room  and  as  suddenly  returned, 
his  face  wreathed  in  smiles  and  his  eyes  beaming.  Holding  a  mass 
of  wrapping  pap>er  in  his  trembling  hands  he,  began  to  sway  his 
body,  and  as  he  swayed,  he  intoned  musically,  as  if  he  were  rend- 
ering an  anthem,  these  lines: 

119 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

"The  night  is  dark,  and  not  a  star 

Doth  shine  in  all  the  empty  space; 
I  am  a  stranger  and  alone, 

A  dethroned  prince  of  a  homeless  race." 

"Isn't  that  fine?"  he  said,  enthusiastically,  kissing  the  tips  of 
his  fingers.  But  the  boys  stared  at  him  vaguely,  much  amazed  to 
see  tears  streaming  down  his  face,  as  he  continued  to  murmur  the 
remaining  verses. 

"Listen  to  this!"  he  said  after  a  pause.  And  having  selected 
another  poem  for  recitation,  he  tossed  his  head  back,  as  if  he  were 
about  to  sing'  and  began: 

"Count  not  my  tears,  O  Lord,  my  God; 

With  tears  I  pray  to  thee; 
My  tears  have  knit  a  ladder 

Whereon  I  climb  to  thee." 

Copious  tears  filled  his  eyes  at  the  conclusion  of  this  verse, 
and  he  was  unable  to  continue  either  reciting  the  subsequent  stan- 
zas, of  which  there  were  many,  or  to  resume  the  instruction,  TTie 
tears  welled  from  his  eyes,  flowing  down  the  grooves  of  his 
face  and  melting  in  the  thick  meshes  of  his  beard. 

"Are  they  not  divine,  boys?"  he  asked,  kissing  the  tips  of  his 
fingers. 

"Ah,"  he  sighed  languidly,  "a  sweet  singer  of  Israel  left  per- 
ishing in  a  foreign  landl  Shield  of  David  redeem  me!,  Hark- 
en  to  this  youths!" 

Tears  were  gathering  in  the  boy's  eyes,  but  the  professor 
did  not  see  them.  Shuffling  the  scrappy  pieces  of  paper  hurriedly, 
he  selected  the  desired  poem,  and  then  read  slowly: 

120 


A  COUNTRY  CHEDER 

"How  burdened  are  we  sons  of  men, 

Where'er  our  steps  are  lead; 
There  is  no  peace  for  that  poor  soul 

Who  daily  begs   his  bread. 

The  sheep  or  cattle  in  the  field, 

Or  dogs  of  a  city's  street: 
They  find  their  food — a  whitened  bone — 

Beneath  their  idle  feet; 

But  man,  God's  child,  he  hungry  goes. 

And  starves  for  a  crust  of  bread. 
And  all   the  joys  my  poor  soul   knows 

Is  buried  with  the  dead." 

Because  the  professor  was  in  tears,  the  boys  thought  they 
ought  to  weep  too,  and  they  did. 

"Boys,  boys,"  he  said  sorrowfully,  "you  will  never  compre- 
hend my  position.  Never,  never!  God  spare  you  that  catas- 
trophe. But  my  own  poor  children,  how  they  must  suffer  on  my 
account. 

He  was  indeed  overcome.  Burying  his  head  in  his  hands, 
he  wept  with  a  sad  disconsolate  wail,  heart-rending  and  grew- 
some.  His  sobbing  now  still  further  affected  Ludwig  and  Gott- 
lieb, and  so  loud  did  they  cry  that  their  lamentations  attracted 
the  professors  notice.  Realizing  the  futility  of  provoking  need- 
less tears,  he  compxjsed  himself,  brushed  his  own  tears  aside  and, 
resting  his  hands  gently  on  his  scholars  head's  spoke  softly  to  them. 

"Gentle,  my  lads,"  he  said,  methought  in  America  all  Jews 
hard-hearted  and  stiffnecked.  In  country  towns,  alas!  methought 
the  Jew  turned  goy.  No,  no!  The  Jewish  heart  is  ever  moved 
by  distress.  God  made  it  so.  See,  even  you  princes  of  fortune, 
you  feel  for  your  teacher.  1  espy  that  in  you.  So  now  let  us  con- 
tinue our  tutorization." 

121 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

He  pointed  to  the  open  primer  and  sang: 

"Aleph,  a,  a:  aleph,  beth,  gimmel;  gimmel,  daleth,  hey; 
hey,  vay,  zayin." 

So  the  lesson  continued  to  the  end  of  the  hour. 

Not  one  of  their  companions  was  waiting  for  them  when  the 
Lustig  boys  emerged  from  the  house,  each  sucking  an  immense 
juicy  orange.  Devouring  the  succulent  fruit,  they  sauntered  down 
Coy  street,  into  Bristol  street,  toward  their  home  beyond  Sucker 
Brook. 

When  Herman  Lustig  returned  at  supper  time  from  his  store, 
he  called  the  youngsters  from  the  backyard,  where  they  were  dig- 
ging a  cave. 

"Well,  boys,  how  did  it  go?     What  did  you  do?"  he  asked. 

"He  threw  kisses  at  us,  and  we  cried."  Gottlieb  answered 
immediately. 

"Didn't  you  learn  your  aleph,  beth?" 

"Aleph,  a,  a;  aleph,  beth,  gimmel;  gimmel'  daleth,  hey," 
they  sang,  repeating  the  professors'  intonations. 

"Is  that  as  far  as  you  got?" 

"No,  no;  we  shall  know  all  of  the  alphabet,"  Ludv^g  said 
proudly,  and  thereupon  both  convinced  their  father  that  the  hour 
under  the  professors'  instruction  was  profitably  sjjent  by  reciting 
fluently  the  entire  Hebrew  alphabet. 

"Ah,"  Lustig  said  with  evident  pleasure,  that's  fine.  I  give 
each  of  you  five  cents  because  you  have  learned  it  so  well." 

"Give  my  money  to  the  professor,"  Ludwig  said.  "He's 
poor." 

"Mine  too,  papa,"  Gotdieb  echoed  warmly.  "He's  hungry. 
He  said  he  was  and  that  dogs  ate  bones  and  he  couldn't — ^yes  he 
did.    And  he  Ukes  me." 

Recounting  the  incidents  of  their  lesson  was  the 
chief  diversion  of  the  evening;  and  Lustig  Hstened  intendy  to  all 

122 


PROFK.S.-iOli    GOLDSTEIN 

'Sfhiih,   a.  a:   alrf>li.   ttrth.   gimmel:     gimmcl.    Jaleth.    hey. 


A  COUNTRY  CHEDER 

they  had  to  say  along  these  lines,  on  this  and  many  subsequent 
evenings  of  the  summer  vacation.  The  boys  continued  their  lessons 
regularly  and  faithfully  during  July  and  the  first  week  in  August, 
when  the  long  exjiected  Bamum  circus  came  to  town. 

A  circus  is  the  annual  carnival  of  a  country  town.  Before 
sunrise  the  youths  of  the  place  are  astir.  In  Canaway,  as  in  most 
of  such  places,  attention  hangs  on  the  event.  Many  a  boy  remains 
awake  all  night  in  order  to  be  up  in  time  to  see  the  circus  train 
come  in  and  unload.  Of  great  importance  to  all  is  such  a  show 
in  Canaway.  But  with  the  advent  of  Bamum's  circus,  the  bril- 
hant  career  ot  the  professor  came  to  an  untimely  end. 

In  defense  of  Barnum's  let  it  be  known  that  on  its  account 
the  worthy  professor  did  not  leave  Canaway.  But  on  circus 
day  he  became  convinced  that  the  place  did  not  appreciate  his 
imf>osing  citizenship,  for  then  culminated  the  series  of  torments 
to  which  he  had  been  subjected  by  the  younger  generation  of 
his  townfolk. 

Ludwig  and  Gottlieb  were  unaware  of  the  many  pranks 
played  on  the  professor  by  the  ingenuous  youths  of  Bristol  street. 
TTiey  were  obviously  too  young  either  to  engage  in  the  many 
midnight  prowls  or  to  play  "hunt  the  grey."  The  big  boys,  those 
who  wore  long  trousers,  could  endure  the  strain  of  that  game,  and 
then  only  the  older  boys  were  sufficiently  skillful  to  attach  unde- 
tected a  tick-tack  to  some  one's  window.  On  Saturday  night 
only,  the  Lustig  lads  were  permitted  to  go  down  town  after  dark. 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  they  never  heard  of  the  frequency 
with  which  the  professor  reported  these  anoyances  to  Hiram  Doo- 
little,  the  town  constable  (there  was  no  policeman  in  Canaway; 
policemen  were  invented  for  cities;)  nor  of  the  many  times  the 
professor  had  harangued  the  youngsters  on  the  front  lawn,  long 
after  the  town  clock  had  tolled  the  curfew. 

Had  the  Lustigs  engaged  in  any  of  these  dare-deviltries,  they 
123 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

would  have  understood  what  Charlie  Ashley,  the  Mutchler  boys 
or  Will  Andrews  meant,  when  they  asked  where  the  professor 
kept  his  "stove-piiJe'"  The  Lustigs  did  not  indeed  know  in  what 
part  of  the  studio  or  boudoir  the  professor  bestowed  his  headgear. 
Nor  did  they  understand  that  the  boys  were  hinting  when  they 
asked  them  if  they  ever  heard  the  professor  lecture.  These  veiled 
references  were  lost  on  them,  although  they  confessed  they  had 
been  lectured.  With  familiarity  came  indifference.  Frequent- 
ly their  teacher  reproved  them  for  carlessness.  But  never  had  they 
heard  him  lecture  the  village  boys.  It  had  not  been  their  fortune 
to  hear  him  shriek: 

"Wait!  I  communicate  your  imbecilities  to  the  police — loafers!" 

TTie  Lustigs  had  never  been  a  party  of  the  chorus  of  the  young- 
sters who  verbally  repeated  his  threat,  and  then  added  with  rural 
disdain: 

"Ah,  come  off!" 

"Insolence!"  the  professor  would  yell  back,  "know  you  not 
that  I  am  a  teacher?  Have  you  no  respect  for  learning,  you  igno- 
ramuses? Am  I  so  distinguished  that  you  maltreat  my  repose,  and 
annihilate  the  tranquility  of  my  family!", 

Hyman  Goldstein,  D.  D.,  professor  of  music  and  languages, 
was  not  the  first  nor  the  last  to  hear  the  derisive  laughter  of  the 
gentiles.  But  the  town  boys  were  not  maliciously  inclined.  They 
were  playful,  and  the  impressive  professor  afforded  them  one  of 
a  very  few  sources  of  amusement. 

Wherever  he  went^he  was  sure  to  have  a  following.  And 
as  domestic  exigencies  comp>elled  him  to  move  about  frequently^ 
with  his  baskets  of  fruit,  he  was  constantly  driven  to  desperate 
straits. 

On  circus  day  the  battle  ended.  Within  a  few  months  he  had 
succeeded  in  making  himself  one  of  the  best  known  characters  in  Can. 
away.    His  whiskers  and  his  stove-pipe  had  singled  him  out  on 

124 


A  COUNTRY  CHEDER 

the  street;  and  his  retorts  to  the  boys  were  quoted  in  all  parts  of 
the  town.  Besides  his  poems  in  the  village  paf)er  popularized 
him  jocularly  with  the  literary  people  and  the  lawyers.  Cana- 
way  had  never  had  a  real  poet,  nor  had  it  ever  bought  fruit  and 
garden  truck  from  one  who  wore  a  stove-pipe  hat.  Whatever 
it  was  that  moved  his  townsfolk  to  patronize  him,  he  did  a  thrifty 
vegetable  business  for  a  time;  but  it  did  not  last  long;  for  the  boys 
practically  drove  him  away. 

The  Professor  was  ahve  to  the  profitable  advantage  that  a 
fruit  stand  would  be  on  circus  day.  With  a  discerning  eye  he  had 
pitched  his  tent  near  the  dejxjt.  Over  some  clothes  poles  he  spread 
a  bed  sheet,  beneath  which  on  the  dry  goods  boxes  which  Lustig 
gave  him  he  piled  small  mountains  of  oranges  and  p>eanuts,  while 
into  a  big  wash-tub  he  poured  gallons  of  diluted  lemonade.  Ap- 
p>ointing  his  older  son  and  daughter  to  stand  guard  behind  the 
the  counter,  he  stationed  himself  without  the  shadow  of  his  tent, 
calling  aloud  to  everyone: 

"Lemonade!  lemonade!  Peanuts  and  oranges!" 

It  may  have  been  the  rest  of  his  attire,  but  it  was  particularly 
the  hat  that  attracted  the  rustics.  Tliey  had  never  seen  anyone 
so  arrayed.  It  appeared  to  them  a  part  of  the  circus  attraction 
to  look  at  a  small,  coatless  fellow,  wearing  a  high  silk  hat  that 
slightly  sheltered  a  strong  but  sad  face,  and  who  was  eyeing  in- 
tently the  passersby  and  chanting  to  them  persuadingly,  in  tones 
that  remotely  resembled  a  melody: 
"Peanuts  and  oranges!  Lemonade  and  candies! 
Lemonade,  ladies!  Lemonade  and  candy!" 

The  throng  on  the  street  thickened.  From  the  surrounding 
towns  and  the  rural  districts  streamed  into  Canaway  the  farmers 
and  others.  Main  street  was  packed  with  people  awaiting  the 
circus   parade. 

The  Canaway  boys  who  had  been  on  the  circus  grounds 
125 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

since  dawn  and  had  witnessed  the  bustling  method  of  pitching 
the  tents,  were  now  drifting  back  to  town  to  watch  the  procession 
from  the  crowded  curbstone  on  Main  street.  But  the  more  rest- 
less ones  circulated  among  the  crowd,  and  in  good  time  a  detach- 
ment of  Cana way's  choice  spirits,  the  Bristol  street  gang,  discovered 
the  professor's  tent. 

"Hello,  Professor  Deedeel"  they  yelled,  familiarly.  The 
constant  mention  by  the  Lustig  boys  of  Goldstein's  theological 
title  provided  the  rest  wdth  the  needed  nickname,  which  all  town 
boys  invent  to  honor  each  of  their  favorites. 

Tlieir  greeting  was  righteously  ignored. 

"Peanuts  and  lemonade!  Oranges  and  candies!"  sang  the 
professor. 

"Peanuts  and  lemonade!"  the  boys  shouted,  imitating  his  tones. 

"Lemonade!  Lemonade! "sang  the  professor,  unheedingly. 

"Lemonade,  made  in  the  shade  with  a  spade  by  the  aid  of 
an  old  maid,"  one  urchin  shouted;  while  his  companions  in  a  semi- 
circle, closing  in  on  the  booth  or  tent,  took  up  the  strain  instantly, 
adding  to  and  improving  it  so  that  the  professor  heard  a  saucy 
lot  of  lusty  throats  cry  out: 

"Lemonade,  made  with  a  spade  in  the  shade,  by  an  old 
maid." 

Goldstein's  patience  was  tried.  The  idle  throng,  amused 
by  the  humorous  and  somewhat  musical  wrangle  began  to  en- 
close them.  When  the  Lustigs,  who,  like  other  town  boys,  feel 
the  superiority  of  the  local  resident,  found  themselves  at  the  end 
of  their  wanderings  at  the  railroad  station,  they  overheard  the  fa- 
miliar voice  of  the  professor  exclaiming  excitedly: 

"Imbeciles,  begone  with  you!  Loafers,  vagabonds!  hie  away! 
You  are  injuring  my  business.    Begone  with  you,  hoodlums." 

Angered  by  the  persistent  disobedience  of  his  tormentors, 
he  darted  toward  the  bolder  with  a  threatening  gesture,  and  they 

126 


A  COUNTRY  CHEDER 

instantly  retaliated  by  coming  nearer  to  his  tent,  and  shaking  the 
unsteady  tent  poles  and  pretending  to  grab  some  of  the  fruit.  The 
sales  stopped,  for  the  crowd  was  more  interested  in  the  scrimmage 
than  the  wares. 

Ludwig  and  Gottlieb  looked  on  with  fear,  blanched  by  the 
possibilities  of  the  situation.  The  agonized  appeal  of  their  teacher 
aroused  their  symf>athy  and  moved  them  to  tears. 

"Pity  me,  my  good  friends,"  he  cried  to  the  gawking  crowd. 
"I  am  a  poor  man.  Don't  you  see  you  are  taking  the  bread  from 
my  mouth?" 

The  crowd  was  unmoved,  however,  and  a  country  bully, 
inflamed,  perhaps,  by  the  hard  cider  and  impelled  by  mischief, 
pushed  some  one  against  the  stand,  upsetting  the  fruit  and  lemonade 
and  wrecking  the  tent.  Oranges  rolled  over  the  ground,  while 
the  lemonade  made  its  own  rivulets,  wetting  the  place  underfoot 
and    forming    many  p>ools. 

The  catastrophe  paralyzed  the  professor.  For  a  moment 
he  stood  without  motion  or  speech,  and  then  winding  his  arms 
about  his  crying  sons  and  daughters,  who  had  crept  out  from  under 
the  ruins  of  the  booth,  he  himself  burst  into  tears  and  wailing, 
but  suppressed  his  own  feelings  presently,  in  order  to  soothe  his 
son  and  daughter. 

His  grief  softened  the  heart  of  the  mob.  Many  a  rustic  who 
had  stared  open-mouthed  and  dully  at  him  now  set  about  to  pick 
up  the  fruit  and  restore  the  tent.  But  all  the  while  a  silence  was 
over  them,  and  few  ventured  to  move,  none  to  pilfer  the  fruit.  TTie 
crowd  merely  stood  and  gawked.  Then  a  broadshouldered 
red-faced  man  pushed  his  way  through  and  facing  the  crowd 
and  shaking  his  fist  at  them,  said  in  his  country  drawl: 

"See  here!  TTie  fellers  that's  done  this  'er  thing's  goin'  to 
pay  for  it  and  I  know  who  it  is.  Any  fellow  what  moves  from  here 
before  he  settles  up,  that  feller's  goin'  to  wrastle  mel" 

127 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

He  threw  off  his  coat  and  flung  it  to  his  wife,  who  carrying 
a  baby  on  one  arm,  tried  to  restrain  her  husband  with  the  other. 

Ludwig  and  Gottlieb  did  not  wait  the  outcome.  They  ran 
to  their  father's  store,  attracting  attention  by  their  loud  cries  and 
causing  everyone  they  met  to  ask  them  what  had  happened. 

Lustig's  Rochester  Clothing  Store  was  crowded  when  the 
boys  came  in,  sobbing  and  rubbing  the  tears  from  their  eyes. 

"What's  this?"  Lustig  demanded,  sharply,  lea\Tng[  his  cus- 
tomer. 

"The  boys  wanted  to  kill  our  Hebrew  teacher  Ludwig  blub- 
bered. 

But  the  professor  was  fully  repaid  and  all  damages  repaired. 
When  the  gorgeous  band-wagon  that  leads  the  parade  loomed 
into  view  on  lower  Main  street,  he  had  his  tent  restored,  his  oranges 
replaced,  and  the  lemonade  renewed  in  another  and  better  vessel. 
He  was  plying  to  a  thrifty  trade.  His  sympathizers  had  increased 
apace,  and  his  fruit  was  sold  out  again  and  again. 

But  the  accident  did  not  alter  his  intention.  "I  leave  this 
hamlet,"  he  confided  to  Ludwig  and  Gottlieb  the  following  day. 
I  have  just  been  appointed  Chief  Rabbi  of  the  Rhine  Street  Ahavas 
Israel  in  Rochester,  and  I  must  obey  the  summons.  TTiis  is  my 
vocation;  and  now  at  last  fortune  destines  me  to  better  ends.  I 
need  it:  God  knows  I  need  it!" 

He  sighed  and  blew  his  nose  vigorously  in  his  large  red  and 
white  bandana  handkerchief,  and  then  he  shook  each  boy  by  the 
hand. 

"Hearken,  lads.  I  am  proud  to  have  met  you  country  youths. 
Ludwig  and  Gottlieb  Lustig,  always  be  proud  of  your  Jewish 
heritage,  and  some  day,  perhaps,  you  will  read  all  of  my  poems 
in  one  immense  pubUcation  like  Shakespere.  Some  day  the  sweet 
singer  of  David  will  be  famous,  and  you  will  remember  your 
teacher,  nicht  whar?" 

128 


A  COUNTRY  CHEDER 

Then  he  blessed  them,  gave  each  an  orange  and  a  bag  of  pea- 
nuts, and  sent  them  on  their  way.  This  was  the  last  they  saw  of 
Hyman  Goldstein,  D.  D.,  professor  of  music  and  languages. 


129 


POSTSCRIPT. 

Now  that  you  have  read  what  has  been  related  about  the 
Lustig  boys,  what  they  did  on  the  Jewish  holidays,  how  their 
father  spent  his  childhood  in  Schwersenz,  how  they  learned  a  little 
of  Hebrew  from  that  funny  man,  Hyman  Goldstein,  D.,  D.,  pro- 
fessor of  music  and  languages;  how  pretty  the  rural  village  of  Can- 
away  is  and  how  charming  the  lake,  you,  my  dear  little  readers, 
may  like  to  hear  what  became  of  the  Lustigs.  And  if  I  were  near 
you  would  ask  me  what  became  of  them,  just  as  Ludwig  and  Gott- 
lieb used  to  ask  their  father  concerning  anything  they  wanted  to 
know. 

.  Thev  did  not  always  remain  in  Canaway;  and  somehow 
this  seems  to  be  a  sad  confession,  which  for  truth's  sake  it  is  nec- 
essary to  make,  for  in  the  country  and  in  country  villages  life  is  sim- 
pler and  more  even  than  in  cities,  and  men  and  women 
are  healthier  and  happier  when  they  get  the  pure  breath  of  the  fields 
and  woodlands  than  they  are  when  they  live  in  the  close,  narrow 
city  streets  and  in  the  houses  that  have,  so  to  speak,  no  elbow 
room.  TTie  Lustigs  moved  away  from  Canaway  to  the  city  which 
they  had  often  visited  with  unfeigned  delight.  TTiey  went  to 
Rochester. 

Ludwig  was  thirteen  years  old  and  Gottlieb  eleven  and  five 
months  when  their  father  sold  his  Canaway  clothing  store.  He 
sold,  so  he  said  because  he  had  a  good  chance  to  go  into  a  bigger 
business  in  Rochester.  Having  lived  in  Canaway  seventeen 
years  lacking  three  weeks,  he  took  it  into  his  head  that  that  was 

130 


POSCRIPT 

long  enough  to  stay  in  one  small  comer  of  the  world,  and  he 
decided  that  he  would  go  to  a  larger  town  and  spend  the  remainder 
of  his  days  there.  He  felt  sure  that  in  such  a  place  there  would 
be  more  frequent  and  better  opjjortunities  to  improve  the  con- 
dition of  his  family.  Besides,  he  desired  the  advantage  of  Jewish 
society — to  give  the  boys  the  companionship  of  Jewish  children 
and  a  wider  field  in  which  to  expand,  to  grow  up  in  and  become 
notable  jiersons.  His  intention  he  made  known  to  his  sons.  He 
was  not  unselfish  in  his  ambitions.  He  wished  to  be  a  whole 
sale  dealer  i  n  clothing  and  the  principal  in  a  large  establishment. 
He  felt  that  he  would  then  be  of  importance  in  the  business  world: 
and  every  man  whether  he  will  confess  it  or  not,  likes  to  feel  at 
least  once  in  a  while  his  own  importance. 

Lustig  saw  that  he  could  never  cut  much  of  a  figure  among 
merchants  if  he  were  to  stay  in  Canaway.  Some  of  his  distant 
relatives  had  remained  in  cities  and  were  now  proprietors  of  large 
clothing  houses,  doing  business  only  at  wholesale.  TTiey  had  dis- 
tanced him  in  the  race  for  wealth  and  he  was  a  little  piqued  that 
they  had  forged  ahead  while  he  was  trifling  his  time  in  the  retail 
trade. 

In  those  Canaway  days  when  he  went  to  Rochester  with  the 
boys  and  was  walking  with  them  through  the  streets  he  would  say: 

"Some  day  we  will  live  in  this  city." 

And  Ludwig  would  answer:  "Oh, pa  pa,  how  old  will  we 
be  then?" 

The  matter  of  their  ages  did  not  interest  Gottlieb.  He  had 
another  question  more  important  to  him  than  that.  "What  will  we 
do,  papa?"  he  asked. 

But  Lustig  would  smile  at  both  of  these  questions  and  tell 
his  sons  the  many  ways  they  would  have  of  amusing  themselves  in 
the  city:  how  they  would  go  to  dancing  school,  to  parties  on 

131 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

Chanukkah,  attend  the  Sunday  school  picnics  and  go  to  the  thea- 
ters on  Saturday  attemoons  with  their  mother. 

He  said  this  and  many  more  things  of  the  sort  to  awaken  or 
stimulate  their  interest  in  the  prospects  he  ^entertained  of  some 
day  living  in  the  city.  He  did  not  wish  the  boys  to  feel  satisfied 
with  an  easy  life,  such  as  Canaway  afforded  them.  He  wanted  them 
to  imbibe  the  American  restlessness  which  comes  from  the  desire 
of  every  American  boy  or  girl  to  better  their  condition.  He  be- 
lieved that  to  be  satisfied  with  one's  lot  meant  stagnation,  and  all 
stagnant  things  or  persons  are  useless.  He  wanted  his  boys  to 
be  enterprising,  and  so,  useful.  TTiat  was  the  leading  trait  in 
his  character  and  he  wished  to  impart  it  to  his  sons. 

His  idea  was,  and  it  was  a  very  good  idea,  that  while  a  man 
is  alive  he  should  be  very  much  aUve. 

It  was  a  long  time,  however,  before  Lustig  could  see  his  way 
clear  to  take  the  hazardous  step  of  giving  up  his  business  in  Can- 
away  and  moving  to  Rochester.  The  opportunity  finally  came 
to  sell  out  and  he  resolved  to  embrace  it.  But  he  had  already 
put  off  the  fulfillment  of  his  promise  to  the  boys  that  some  day 
they  would  live  in  Rochester,  until  they  had  lost  faith  in  it  and 
thought  the  day  would  never  come.  Nevertheless,  the  older 
Lustig  grew  the  more  anxious  he  was  to  hve  in  the  city. 

One  summer  he  made  more  than  the  usual  number  of  trips 
to  Rochester,  and  on  a  night  in  June,  when  he  had  that  afternoon 
returned  from  the  city  he  called  his  sons  to  his  side  and  said  to  them: 

"Well,  my  sons,  at  last  we  are  going  to  move  to  Rochester." 

"When?"  inquired    Ludwig,    evidendy    still    in    doubt. 

"As  soon  as  we  can  pack  up.  I  have  sold  my  business  here  and 
have  been  taken  into  partnership  with  a  firm  of  clothiers  in  Roches- 
ter." 

"Hurrah!  Hurrah!"     the  boys  exclaimed  gleehJly. 

But  their  father  was  not  yet  prepared  to  enter  into  their  mood. 
132 


POSCRIPT 

He  alone  realized  the  responsibilities,  the  daring,  the  uncertainty 
of  the  transition.  He  looked  careworn  and  troubled.  When 
we  have  sought  out  the  object  and  aim  which  we  have  been  long- 
ing and  striving  for  year  after  year  we  see  that  it  is  not  all  our  an- 
ticijMitions  painted  it,  and,  instead  of  being  elated,  we  are  dejected. 
Tlie  thing  itself  is  so  different  from  what  we  thought  it  wonld  be. 

TTie  boys  seeing  their  father  so  strangely  gloomy,  so  quiet  and 
abstracted  and  with  apparendy  nothing  further  to  say  about  their 
moving  to  the  city,  left  him  and  ran  out  of  doors  to  let  their  play- 
fellows hear  the  startling  news.  In  a  little  while  every  lad  on 
Bristol  street,  and  shortly  after  that  everybody  in  Canaway,  knew 
that  the  Lustigs  had  sold  out  and  were  going  to  move  to  Roch- 
ester. In  the  Lustig  household  weeks  of  activity  followed.  All 
the  furniture  was  packed  and  crated,  and  the  boys  were  sent  from 
neighbor  to  neighbor  for  a  night's  lodging,  as  the  exigencies  of  the 
case  required.  Pfowever,  one  Sunday  evening,  after  a  week 
in  which  all  the  household  goods  had  been  loaded  on  a  freight 
car,  Lustig  told  his  family  that  this  would  be  their  last  Sunday 
in  Canaway.  He  had  already  begun  active  business  in  Rochester, 
and  he  had  stayed  in  the  city  six  days  a  week,  returning  to  his  home 
only  for  the  seventh  day. 

TTie  boys,  of  course,  were  happier  than  their  father.  Since 
he  went  to  the  city  and  entered  business  there  he  had  not  been  very 
light-hearted,  but  as  this  Sunday  was  the  last  that  he  and  his  family 
would  live  in  Canaway,  he  proposed  to  celebrate  the  day,  and 
in  this  manner — to  take  a  long  carriage  ride  around  the  town. 

TTiey  drove  all  that  afternoon,  seeing  familar  scenes,  visiting 
old  friends  and  saying  good-bye  to  them.  Herman  Lustig  him- 
self was  very  sober,  and  Mrs.  Lustig,  as  she  parted  with  her  neigh- 
bors, was  often  in  tears,  but  the  boys  laughed  nearly  all  the  time  and 
waited  with  impatience  the  dawning  of  the  morrow.  Perhaps 
they  were  not  particularly  interested  in  visiting  for  the  last  time  the 

133 


CANAWAY  AND  THE  LUSTIGS 

many  familiar  places  which  have  been  described  in  this  book — 
but  Herman  Lustig  was.  The  lake  dimpled,  and  seemed  as  if 
it  were  grieved;  the  hills  frowned  disapproval  of  the  family's  de- 
parture; and  over  the  town  hovered  a  soft  cloud  of  early  summer. 
Here,  in  the  place  where  Herman  Lustig  had  begun  his  business 
career,  would  ever  dwell  tender  associations  of  his  Hfe  in  America. 
But  the  town  was  »oon  to  be  to  him  scarcely  more  than  a  shadow. 

On  Monday  morning  he  and  his  family  left.  The  Elmira 
ELxpress  rolled  into  the  depot  at  eight-forty,  and  five  minutes  later 
carried  them  away.  They  caught  a  swift  glimpse  of  lower  Main 
street  and  the  lake  and  as  the  train  svmng  around  the  bend  back  of 
the  town  hall,  they  passed  the  burial  ground  and  brewery  and  flie 
hills,  rolling  off  to  the  west,  golden  with  the  sunlight  of  their 
changeful  day,  Canaway  was  for  them  little  more  than  a  dream. 

What  they  did  in  Rochester  is  not  of  interest  to  us  at  present, 
nor  is  it  of  immediate  concern.  We  have  lived  with  the  Lustigs 
in  Canaway;  and  now  that  they  have  parted  with  that  pretty  place, 
let  us  part  with  them,  too. 

But  this  I  feel  obliged  to  say — that  often  the  boys  in  later  Hfe 
revisited  their  native  towTi.  They  recalled  their  experiences  there, 
and  their  thoughts  flew  back  to  the  place  with  affection  and  with 
the  yearning  we  all  must  feel  for  the  days  that  are  no  more. 


134 


Ill 

A     001  131  627     0 


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f  • 


